X\\' 


v      <-  .  \ 

•*;.  X 


WEE  WILLIE  WINKIE 


AND  OTHER  STORIES 


BY 

RUDYARD  KIPLING 


NEW  YORK 
MANHATTAN   PRESS 

474  WEST  BROADWAY 


WEE  WILLIE  WINKIE. 


"  AN  officer  and  a  gentleman." 

His  full  name  was  Percival  William  Wil- 
liams, but  he  picked  up  the  other  name  in  a 
nursery-book,  and  that  was  the  end  of  the 
christened  titles.  His  mother's  ayah  called 
him  W\\\ie-l?al>a,  but  as  he  never  paid  the 
faintest  attention  to  anything  that  the  ayah 
said,  her  wisdom  did  not  help  matters. 

His  father  was  the  Colonel  of  the  i95th, 
and  as  soon  as  Wee  Willie  Winkie  was  old 
enough  to  understand  what  Military  Discipline 
meant,  Colonel  Williams  put  him  under  it. 
There  was  no  other  way  of  managing  the  child. 
When  he  was  good  for  a  week,  he  drew  good- 
conduct  pay ;  and  when  he  was  bad,  he  was- 
deprived  of  his  good-conduct  stripe.  Generally 
he  was  bad,  for  India  offers  so  many  chances* 
to  little  six-year-olds  of  going  wrong. 

Children  resent  familiarity  from  strangers, 
and  Wee  Willie  Winkie  was  a  very  particular 
child.  Once  he  accepted  an  acquaintance, 
he  was  graciously  pleased  to  thaw.  He  ac- 
cepted Brandis,  a  subaltern  of  the  igsth,  on. 


2234735 


8  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

sight.  Brandis  was  having  tea  at  the  Col- 
onel's, and  Wee  Willie  Winkie  entered  strong 
in  the  possession  of  a  good-conduct  badge 
won  for  not  chasing  the  hens  round  the  com- 
pound. He  regarded  Brandis  with  gravity  for 
at  least  ten  minutes,  and  then  delivered  him- 
self of  his  opinion. 

"  I  like  you,"  said  he  slowly,  getting  off  his 
chair  and  coming  over  to  Brandis.  "  I  like 
you.  I  shall  call  you  Coppy,  because  of  your 
hair.  Do  you  mind  being  called  Coppy  ?  it 
is  because  of  ve  hair,  you  know." 

Here  was  one  of  the  most  embarrassing  of 
Wee  Willie  Winkie's  peculiarities.  He  would 
look  at  a  stranger  for  some  time,  and  then, 
without  warning  or  explanation,  would  give 
him  a  name.  And  the  name  stuck.  No  regi- 
mental penalties  could  break  Wee  Willie 
Winkie  of  this  habit.  He  lost  his  good-con- 
duct badge  for  christening  the  Commissioner's 
wife  "  Fobs ;  "  but  nothing  that  the  Colonel 
could  do  made  the  Station  forego  the  nick- 
name, and  Mrs.  Collen  remained  Mrs.  "  Fobs  " 
till  the  end  of  her  stay.  So  Brandis  was 
christened  "  Coppy,"  and  rose,  therefore,  in 
the  estimation  of  the  regiment. 

If  Wee  Willie  Winkie  took  an  interest  in 
any  one,  the  fortunate  man  was  envied  alike 
by  the  mess  and  the  rank  and  file.  And  in 
their  envy  lay  no  suspicion  of  self-interest. 
"  The  Colonel's  son "  was  idolized  on  his 
own  merits  entirely.  Yet  Wee  Willie  Winkie 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  9 

was  not  lovely.  His  face  was  permanently 
freckled,  as  his  legs  were  permanently 
scratched,  and  in  spite  of  his  mother's  almost 
tearful  remonstrances  he  had  insisted  upon 
having  his  long  yellow  locks  cut  short  in 
the  military  fashion.  "  I  want  my  hair  like 
Sergeant  Tummil's,"  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie, 
and,  his  father  abetting,  the  sacrifice  was  ac- 
complished. 

Three  weeks  after  the  bestowal  of  his 
youthful  affections  on  Lieutenant  Brandis 
— henceforward  to  be  called  "  Coppy  "  for 
the  sake  of  brevity — Wee  Willie  Winkie  was 
destined  to  behold  strange  things  and  far 
beyond  his  comprehension. 

Coppy  returned  his  liking  with  interest 
Coppy  had  let  him  wear  for  five  rapturous 
minutes  his  own  big  sword — just  as  tall  as 
Wee  Willie  Winkie.  Coppy  had  promised  him 
a  terrier  puppy  ;  and  Coppy  had  permitted 
him  to  witness  the  miraculous  operation  of 
shaving.  Nay,  more — Coppy  had  said  that 
even  he,  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  would  rise  in 
time  to  the  ownership  of  a  box  of  shiny  knives, 
a  silver  soap-box  and  a  silver-handled  "  sput- 
ter-brush," as  Wee  Willie  Winkie  called  it. 
Decidedly,  there  was  no  one  except  his  father, 
who  could  give  or  take  away  good-conduct 
badges  at  pleasure,  half  so  wise,  strong,  and 
valiant  as  Coppy  with  the  Afghan  and 
Egyptian  medals  on  his  breast.  Why,  then, 
should  Coppy  be  guilty  of  the  unmanly  weak- 


io  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

ness  of  kissing — vehemently  kissing — a  "  big 
girl,"  Miss  Allardyce  to  wit  ?  In  the  course  of 
a  morning  ride,  Wee  Willie  Winkie  had  seen 
Coppy  so  doing,  and,  like  the  gentleman  he 
was,  had  promptly  wheeled  round  and  can- 
tered back  to  his  groom,  lest  the  groom 
should  also  see. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  would 
have  spoken  to  his  father,  but  he  felt  instinct- 
ively that  this  was  a  matter  on  which  Coppy 
ought  first  to  be  consulted. 

"  Coppy,"  shouted  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  rein- 
ing up  outside  that  subaltern's  bungalow  early 
one  morning — "  I  want  to  see  you,  Coppy  1 " 

"  Come  in,  young  'un,"  returned  Coppy, 
who  was  at  early  breakfast  in  the  midst  of  his 
dogs.  "  What  mischief  have  you  been  getting 
into  now  ? " 

Wee  Willie  Winkie  had  done  nothing  notor- 
iously bad  for  three  days,  and  so  stood  on  a 
pinnacle  of  virtue. 

"  I've  been  doing  nothing  bad,"  said  he, 
curling  himself  into  a  long  chair  with  a  studious 
affectation  of  the  Colonel's  languor  after  a  hot 
parade.  He  buried  his  freckled  nose  in  a 
teacup  and,  with  eyes  staring  roundly  over  the 
rim,  asked  : — "  I  say,  Coppy,  is  it  pwoper  to 
kiss  big  girls  ?  " 

"  By  Jove  1  You're  beginning  early.  Who 
do  you  want  to  kiss  ?  " 

"  No  one.  My  muvver's  always  kissing  me 
if  I  don't  stop  her.  If  it  isn't  pwoper,  how 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  u 

was  you  kissing  Major  Allardyce's  big  girl  last 
morning,  by  ve  canal  ?  " 

Coppy's  brow  wrinkled.  He  and  Miss 
Allardyce  had  with  great  craft  managed  to 
keep  their  engagement  secret  for  a  fortnight. 
There  were  urgent  and  imperative  reasons  why 
Major  Allardyce  should  not  know  how  mat- 
ters stood  for  at  least  another  month,  and  this 
small  marplot  had  discovered  a  great  deal  too 
much. 

"I  saw  you,"  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
calmly.  "  But  ve  groom  didn't  see.  I  said, 
'  Hutjao?  " 

"  Oh,  you  had  that  much  sense,  you  young 
Rip,"  groaned  poor  Coppy,  half  amused  and 
half  angry.  "  And  how  many  people  may  you 
have  told  about  it  ?  " 

"  Only  me  myself.  You  didn't  tell  when  I 
twied  to  wide  ve  buffalo  ven  my  pony  was 
lame ;  and  I  fought  you  wouldn't  like." 

"  Winkie,"  said  Coppy  enthusiastically,  shak- 
ing the  small  hand,  "  you're  the  best  of  good 
fellows.  Look  here,  you  can't  understand  all 
these  things.  One  of  these  days — hang  it, 
how  can  I  make  you  see  it  I — I'm  going  to 
marry  Miss  Allardyce,  and  then  she'll  be  Mrs. 
Coppy,  as  you  say.  If  your  young  mind  is  so 
scandalized  at  the  idea  of  kissing  big  girls,  go 
and  tell  your  father." 

"  What  will  happen  ? "  said  Wee  Willie 
Winkie,  who  firmly  believed  that  his  father 
was  omnipotent. 


12  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  I  shall  get  into  trouble,"  said  Coppy,,  play- 
ing his  trump  card  with  an  appealing  look 
at  the  holder  of  the  ace. 

"Ven  I  won't,"  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
briefly.  "  But  my  faver  says  it's  un-man-ly 
to  be  always  kissing,  and  I  didn't  fink  you'd 
do  vat,  Coppy." 

"  I'm  not  always  kissing,  old  chap.  It's 
only '  now  and  then,  and  when  you're  bigger 
you'll  do  it  too.  Your  father  meant  it's  not 
good :  for  little  boys." 

"  Ah'  I  "  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  now  fully 
enlightened.  "  It's  like  ve  sputter-brush  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Coppy  gravely. 

"But  I  don't  fink  I'll  ever  want  to  kiss 
big  girls,  nor  no  one,  'cept  my  muvver.  And 
I  must  vat,  you  know." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  broken  by  Wee 
Willie  Winkie. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  vis  big  girl,  Coppy  ? " 

'"  Awfully  1 "  said  Coppy. 

"  Fonder  van  you  are  of  Bell  or  ve  Butcha 
— or  me  ?  " 

"  Jt's  in  a  different  way,"  said  Coppy. 
"  You  see,  one  of  these  days  Miss  Allardyce 
will  belong  to  me,  but  you'll  grow  up  and  com- 
mand the  Regiment  and — all  sorts  of  things. 
It's  quite  different,  you  see." 

"Very  well,"  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie, 
rising1;  "  If  you're  fond  of  ve  big  girl,  I  won't 
tell  'any  one.1  I  must  go  now." 

Coppy  rose  and  escorted  his  small  guest  to 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  13 

the  door,  adding : — "  You're  the  best  of  little 
fellows,  Winkie.  I  tell  you  what.  In  thirty 
days  from  now  you  can  tell  if  you  like — tell 
any  one  you  like." 

Thus  the  secret  of  the  Brandis-Allardyce 
engagement  was  dependent  on  a  little  child's 
word.  Coppy,  who  knew  Wee  Willie  Winkie's 
idea  of  truth,  was  at  ease,  for  he  felt  that  he 
would  not  break  promises.  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
betrayed  a  special  and  unusual  interest  in 
Miss  Allardyce,  and,  slowly  revolving  round 
that  embarrassed  young  lady,  was  used  to 
regard  her  gravely  with  unwinking  eye.  He 
was  trying  to  discover  why  Coppy  should  have 
kissed  her.  She  was  not  half  so  nice  as  his 
own  mother.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was 
Coppy's  property,  and  would  in  time  belong 
to  him.  Therefore  it  behooved  him  to  treat 
her  with  as  much  respect  as  Coppy's  big  sword 
or  shiny  pistol. 

The  idea  that  he  shared  a  great  secret  in 
common  with  Coppy  kept  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
unusually  virtuous  for  three  weeks.  Then  the 
Old  Adam  broke  out,  and  he  made  what  he 
called  a  "  camp-fire "  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden.  How  could  he  have  foreseen  that 
the  flying  sparks  would  have  lighted  the  Col- 
onel's little  hayrick  and  consumed  a  week's 
store  for  the  horses  ?  Sudden  and  swift  was 
the  punishment — deprivation  of  the  good- 
conduct  badge  and,  most  sorrowful  of  all,  two 
days  confinement  to  barracks — the  house  and 


14          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

veranda — coupled  with  the  withdrawal  of  the 
light  of  his  father's  countenance. 

He  took  the  sentence  like  the  man  he  strove 
to  be,  drew  himself  up  with  a  quivering  under- 
lip,  saluted,  and,  once  clear  of  the  room,  ran  to 
weep  bitterly  in  his  nursery — called  by  him 
"  my  quarters."  Coppy  came  in  the  after- 
noon and  attempted  to  console  the  culprit. 

"  I'm  under  awwest,"  said  Wee  Willie 
Winkie  mournfully,  "  and  I  didn't  ought  to 
speak  to  you." 

Very  early  the  next  morning  he  climbed  on 
to  the  roof  of  the  house — that  was  not  for- 
bidden— and  beheld  Miss  Allardyce  going  for 
a  ride. 

"  Where  are  you  going  "  cried  Wee  Willie 
Winkie. 

"  Across  the  river,"  she  answered,  and  trot- 
ted forward. 

Now  the  cantonment  in  which  the  i95th  lay 
was  bounded  on  the  north  by  a  river — dry  in 
the  winter.  From  his  earliest  years,  Wee 
Willie  Winkie  had  been  forbidden  to  go  across 
the  river,  and  had  noted  that  even  Coppy — 
the  almost  almighty  Coppy — had  never  set 
foot  beyond  it  Wee  Willie  Winkie  had  once 
been  read  to,  out  of  a  big  blue  book,  the  his- 
tory of  the  Princess  and  the  Goblins — a  most 
wonderful  tale  of  a  land  where  the  Goblins 
were  always  warring  with  the  children  of  men 
until  they  were  defeated  by  one  Curdie.  Ever 
since  that  date  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  bare 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  15 

black  and  purple  hills  across  the  river  were 
inhabited  by  Goblins,  and,  in  truth,  every  one 
had  said  that  there  lived  the  Bad  Men.  Even 
in  his  own  house  the  lower  halves  of  the  win- 
dows were  covered  with  green  paper  on  ac- 
count of  the  Bad  Men  who  might,  if  allowed 
clear  view,  fire  into  peaceful  drawing-rooms 
and  comfortable  bedrooms.  Certainly,  beyond 
the  river,  which  was  the  end  of  all  the  Earth, 
lived  the  Bad  Men.  And  here  was  Major  Al- 
lardyce's  big  girl,  Coppy's  property,  preparing 
to  venture  into  their  borders !  What  would 
Coppy  say  if  anything  happened  to  her  ?  If 
the  Goblins  ran  off  with  her  as  they  did  with 
Curdie's  Princess  ?  She  must  at  all  hazards 
be  turned  back. 

The  house  was  still.  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
reflected  for  a  moment  on  the  very  terrible 
wrath  of  his  father ;  and  then — broke  his  arrest! 
It  was  a  crime  unspeakable.  The  low  sun 
threw  his  shadow,  very  large  and  very  black, 
on  the  trim  garden-paths,  as  he  went  down  to 
the  stables  and  ordered  his  pony.  It  seemed 
to  him  in  the  hush  of  the  dawn  that  all  the  big 
world  had  been  bidden  to  stand  still  and  look 
at  Wee  Willie  Winkie  guilty  of  mutiny.  The 
drowsy  groom  handed  him  his  mount,  and, 
since  the  one  great  sin  made  all  others  insig- 
nificant, Wee  Willie  Winkie  said  that  he  was 
going  to  ride  over  to  Coppy  Sahib,  and  went 
out  at  a  foot-pace,  stepping  on  the  soft  mould 
of  the  flower-borders. 


16          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

The  devastating  track  of  the  pony's  feet  was 
the  last  misdeed  that  cut  him  off  from  all 
sympathy  of  Humanity.  He  turned  into  the 
road,  leaned  forward,  and  rode  as  fast  as  the 
pony  could  put  foot  to  the  ground  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  river. 

But  the  liveliest  of  twelve-two  ponies  can  do 
little  against  the  long  canter  of  a  Waler.  Miss 
Allardyce  was  far  ahead,  had  passed  through 
the  crops,  beyond  the  Police-post,  when  all  the 
guards  were  asleep,  and  her  mount  was 
scattering  the  pebbles  of  the  river  bed  as  Wee 
Willie  Winkie  left  the  cantonment  and  British 
India  behind  him.  Bowed  forward  and  still 
flogging,  Wee  Willie  Winkie  shot  into  Afghan 
territory,  and  could  just  see  Miss  Allardyce,  a 
black  speck,  flickering  across  the  stony  plain. 
The  reason  of  her  wandering  was  simple 
enough.  Coppy,  in  a  tone  of  too-hastily-as- 
sumed authority,  had  told  her  over  night  that 
she  must  not  ride  out  by  the  river.  And  she 
had  gone  to  prove  her  own  spirit  and  teach 
Coppy  a  lesson. 

Almost  at  the  foot  of  the  inhospitable  hills, 
Wee  Willie  Winkie  saw  the  Waler  blunder  and 
come  down  heavily.  Miss  Allardyce  struggled 
clear,  but  her  ankle  had  been  severely  twisted, 
and  she  could  not  stand.  Having  thus  demon- 
strated her  spirit,  she  wept  copiously,  and 
was  surprised  by  the  apparition  of  a  white, 
wide-eyed  child  in  khaki,  on  a  nearly  spent 
pony. 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  17 

"  Are  you  badly,  badly  hurted  ?  "  shouted 
Wee  Willie  Winkie,  as  soon  as  he  was  within 
range.  "  You  didn't  ought  to  be  here." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Allardyce  rue- 
fully, ignoring  the  reproof.  "  Good  gracious, 
child,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  You  said  you  was  going  acwoss  ve  wiver," 
panted  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  throwing  himself 
off  his  pony.  "  And  nobody — not  even  Cop- 
py — must  go  acwoss  ve  wiver,  and  I  came 
after  you  ever  so  hard,  but  you  wouldn't  stop, 
and  now  you've  hurted  yourself,  and  Coppy 
will  be  angwy  wiv  me,  and — I've  bwoken  my 
awwest  1  I've  bwoken  my  awwest  1 " 

The  future  Colonel  of  the  igsth  sat  down 
and  sobbed.  In  spite  of  the  pain  in  her  ankle 
the  girl  was  moved. 

"  Have  you  ridden  all  the  way  from  canton- 
ments, little  man  ?  What  for  ?  " 

"  You  belonged  to  Coppy.  Coppy  told  me 
so  1 "  wailed  Wee  Willie  Winkie  disconsolately. 
"  I  saw  him  kissing  you,  and  he  said  he  was 
fonder  of  you  van  Bell  or  ve  Butcha  or  me. 
And  so  I  came.  You  must  get  up  and  come 
back.  You  didn't  ought  to  be  here.  Vis  is  a 
bad  place,  and  I've  bwoken  my  awwest." 

"  I  can't  move,  Winkie,"  said  Miss  Allar- 
dyce, with  a  groan.  "  I've  hurt  my  foot. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

She  showed  a  readiness  to  weep  afresh, 
which  steadied  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  who  had 
been  brought  up  to  believe  that  tears  were  the 

2 


r8          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

depth  of  unmanliness.  Still,  when  one  is  as 
great  a  sinner  as  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  even  a 
man  may  be  permitted  to  break  down. 

"  Winkie,"  said  Miss  Allardyce,  "  when 
you've  rested  a  little,  ride  back  and  tell  them 
to  send  out  something  to  carry  me  back  in. 
It  hurts  fearfully." 

The  child  sat  still  for  a  little  time  and  Miss 
Allardyce  closed  her  eyes ;  the  pain  was  nearly 
making  her  faint.  She  was  roused  by  Wee 
Willie  Winkie  tying  up  the  reins  on  his  pony's 
neck  and  setting  it  free  with  a  vicious  cut  of 
his  whip  that  made  it  whicker.  The  little 
animal  headed  towards  the  cantonments. 

"  Oh,  Winkie  I     What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Hush  1 "  said  Wee  Willie  Winkie.  "Vere's 
a  man  coming — one  of  ve  Bad  Men.  I  must 
stay  wiv  you.  My  faver  says  a  man  must 
always  look  after  a  girl.  Jack  will  go  home, 
and  ven  vey'll  come  and  look  for  us.  Vat's 
why  I  let  him  go." 

Not  one  man  but  two  or  three  had  appeared 
ifrom  behind  the  rocks  of  the  hills,  and  the 
'heart  of  Wee  Willie  Winkie  sank  within  him, 
for  just  in  this  manner  were  the  Goblins  wont 
to  steal  out  and  vex  Curdie's  soul.  Thus  had 
they  played  in  Curdie's  garden,  he  had  seen 
the  picture,  and  thus  had  they  frightened  the 
Princess's  nurse.  He  heard  them  talking  to 
each  other,  and  recognized  with  joy  the  bastard 
Pushto  that  he  had  picked  up  from  one  of  his 
•father's  grooms  lately  dismissed.  People  who 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  19 

spoke  that  tongue  could  not  be  the  Bad  Men. 
They  were  only  natives  after  all. 

They  came  up  to  the  boulders  on  which 
Miss  Allardyce's  horse  had  blundered. 

Then  rose  from  the  rock  Wee  Willie 
Winkie,  child  of  the  Dominant  Race,  aged 
six  and  three-quarters,  and  said  briefly  and 
emphatically  "Jaof"  The  pony  had  crossed 
the  river-bed. 

The  men  laughed,  and  laughter  from  na- 
tives was  the  one  thing  Wee  Willie  Winkie 
could  not  tolerate.  He  asked  them  what  they 
wanted  and  why  they  did  not  depart.  Other 
men  with  most  evil  faces  and  crooked-stocked 
guns  crept  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  hills,  till, 
soon,  Wee  Willie  Winkie  was  face  to  face 
with  an  audience  some  twenty  strong.  Miss 
Allardyce  screamed. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  one  of  the  men. 

"  I  am  the  Colonel  Sahib's  son,  and  my 
order  is  that  you  go  at  once.  You  black 
men  are  frightening  the  Miss  Sahib.  One  of 
you  must  run  into  cantonments  and  take  the 
news  that  the  Miss  Sahib  has  hurt  herself, 
and  that  the  Colonel's  son  is  here  with  her." 

"  Put  our  feet  into  the  trap  ?  "  was  the 
laughing  reply.  "  Hear  this  boy's  speech !  " 

"Say  that  I  sent  you — I,  the  Colonel's 
son.  They  will  give  you  money." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  this  talk  ?  Take  up 
the  child  and  the  girl,  and  we  can  at  least 
ask  for  the  ransom.  Ours  are  the  villages 


2O          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

on  the  heights,"  said  a  voice  in  the  back« 
ground. 

These  were  the  Bad  Men — worse  than  Gob- 
lins— and  it  needed  all  Wee  Willie  Winkie's 
training  to  prevent  him  from  bursting  into 
tears.  But  he  felt  that  to  cry  before  a. native, 
excepting  only  his  mother's  ayah,  would  be 
an  infamy  greater  than  any  mutiny.  More- 
over, he,  as  future  Colonel  of  the.  i95th,  had 
that  grim  regiment  at  his  back. 

"  Are  you  going  to  carry  us  away  ?  "  said 
Wee  Willie  Winkie,  very  blanched  and  un- 
comfortable. 

"  Yes,  my  little  Sahib  Bahadur"  said  the 
tallest  of  the  men,  "  and  eat  you  afterwards." 

"That  is  child's  talk,"  said  Wee  Willie 
Winkie.  "  Men  do  not  eat  men." 

A  yell  of  laughter  interrupted  him,  but  he 
went  on  firmly, — "  And  if  you  do  carry  us 
away,  I  tell  you  that  all  my  regiment  will 
come  up  in  a  day  and  kill  you  all  without 
leaving  one.  Who  will  take  my  message  to 
the  Colonel  Sahib  ?  " 

Speech  in  any  vernacular — and  Wee  Willie 
Winkie  had  a  colloquial  acquaintance  with 
three — -was  easy  to  the  boy  who  could  not 
yet  manage  his  "  r's  "  and  "  th's  "  aright. 

Another  man  joined  the  conference,  cry- 
ing : — "  O  foolish  men !  What  this  babe 
says  is  true.  He  is  the  heart's  heart  of 
those  white  troops.  For  the  sake  of  peace 
let  them  go  both,  for  if  he  be  taken,  the  reg* 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  21 

imeit  will  break  loose  and  gut  the  valley. 
Our  villages  are  in  the  valley,  and  we  shall 
not  escape.  That  regiment  are  devils.  They 
broke  Khoda  Yar's  breast-bone  with  kicks 
when  he  tried  to  take  the  rifles ;  and  if  we 
touch  this  child  they  will  fire  and  rape  and 
plunder  for  a  month,  till  nothing  remains. 
Better  to  send  a  man  back  to  take  the  mes- 
sage and  get  a  reward.  I  say  that  this  child 
is  their  God,  and  that  they  will  spare  none  of 
us,  nor  our  women,  if  we  harm  him." 

It  was  Din  Mahommed,  the  dismissed 
groom  of  the  Colonel,  who  made  the  diver- 
sion, and  an  angry  and  heated  discussion 
followed.  Wee  Willie  Winkie,  standing  over 
Miss  Allardyce,  waited  the  upshot  Surely 
his  "  wegimcnt, '  his  own  "  wegiment,"  would 
not  desert  him  if  they  knew  of  his  extrem- 
ity 


The  riderless  pony  brought  the  news  to  the 
1 95th,  though  there  had  been  consternation 
in  the  Colonel's  household  for  an  hour  be- 
fore. The  little  beast  came  in  through  the 
parade-ground  in  front  of  the  main  barracks, 
where  the  .men  were  settling  down  to  play 
Spoil-five  till  the  afternoon.  Devlin,  the 
color  Sergeant  of  E  Company,  glanced  at 
the  empty  saddle  and  tumbled  through  the 
barrack-rooms,  kicking  up  each  Room  Cor- 
poml  as  he  passed.  "  Up,  ye  beggars  I 


22  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

There's  something  happened  to  the  Colonel's 
son,"  he  shouted. 

"  He  couldn't  fall  off  1  S'elp  me,  'e 
couldn't  fall  off,"  blubbered  a  drummer-boy. 
"  Go  an'  hunt  acrost  the  river.  He's  over 
there  if  he's  anywhere,  an*  maybe  those 
Pathans  have  got  'im.  For  the  love  o*  Gawd 
don't  look  for  'im  in  the  nullahs  1  Let's  go 
over  the  river." 

"  There's  sense  in  Mott  yet,"  said  Devlin. 
"  E  Company,  double  out  to  the  river — sharp  1" 

So  E  Company,  in  its  shirt-sleeves  mainly, 
double  for  the  dear  life,  and  in  the  rear 
toiled  the  perspiring  Sergeant,  adjuring  it 
to  double  yet  faster.  The  cantonment  was 
alive  with  the  men  of  the  igsth  hunting  for 
Wee  Willie  Winkie,  and  the  Colonel  finally 
overtook  E  Company,  far  too  exhausted  to 
swear,  struggling  in  the  pebbles  of  the  river-bed. 

Up  the  hill  under  which  Wee  Willie 
Winkie's  Bad  Men  were  discussing  the  wis- 
dom of  carrying  off  the  child  and  the  girl, 
a  lookout  fired  two  shots. 

t'What  have  I  said?"  shouted  Din  Ma- 
hommed.  "  There  is  the  warning  1  The 
pulton  are  out  already  and  are  coming  across 
the  plain  1  Get  away  1  Let  us  not  be  seen 
with  the  boy  1  " 

The  men  waited  for  an  instant,  and  then, 
as  another  shot  was  fired,  withdrew  into  the 
hills,  silently  as  they  had  appeared. 

"  The   wegiment   is    coming,"    said    Wee 


Wee  Willie  Winkie  23 

Willie  Winkie  confidently  to  Miss  Allardyce, 
"  and  it's  all  wight.  Don't  cwy  1  " 

He  needed  the  advice  himself,  for  ten  min- 
utes later,  when  his  father  came  up,  he  was 
weeping  bitterly  with  his  head  in  Miss  Allar- 
dyce's  lap. 

And  the  men  of  the  iQ5th  carried  him 
home  with  shouts  and  rejoicings ;  and  Coppy, 
who  had  ridden  a  horse  into  a  lather,  met  him, 
and,  to  his  intense  disgust,  kissed  him  openly 
in  the  presence  of  the  men. 

But  there  was  balm  for  his  dignity.  His 
father  assured  him  that  not  only  would  the 
breaking  of  arrest  be  condoned,  but  that  the 
good-conduct  badge  would  be  restored  as  soon 
as  his  mother  could  sew  it  on  his  blouse-sleeve. 
Miss  Allardyce  had  told  the  Colonel  a  story 
that  made  him  proud  of  his  son. 

"  She  belonged  to  you,  Coppy,"  said  Wee 
Willie  Winkie,  indicating  Miss  Allardyce 
with  a  grimy  forefinger.  "  I  knew  she  didn't 
ought  to  go  acwoss  ve  wiver,  and  I  knew  ve 
wegiment  would  come  to  me  if  I  sent  Jack 
home." 

"  You're  a  hero,  Winkie,"  said  Coppy — "  a 
pukka  hero  1  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  vat  means,"  said 
Wee  Willie  Winkie,  "  but  you  mustn't  call  me 
Winkie  any  no  more.  I'm  Percival  Will'am 
Will'ams."' 

And  in  this  manner  did  Wee  Willie  Win- 
kle enter  into  his  manhood. 


BAA  BAA,  BLACK  SHEEP. 


BAA  Baa,  Black  Sheep, 

Have  you  any  wool  ? 

Yes,  Sir,  yes,  Sir,  three  bags  full. 

One  for  the  Master,  one  for  the  Dame — 

None  for  the  Little  Boy  that  cries  down  the  lane. 


THE  FIRST  BAG. 

*  WHEN  I  was  in  my  father's  house,  I  was  in  a  better 
place." 

THEY  were  putting  Punch  to  bed — the  ayah 
and  the  hamal  and  Meeta,  the  big  Surti 
boy  with  the  red  and  gold  turban.  Judy, 
already  tucked  inside  her  mosquito-curtains, 
was  nearly  asleep.  Punch  had  been  allowed 
to  stay  up  for  dinner.  Many  privileges  had 
been  accorded  to  Punch  within  the  last  ten 
days,  and  a  greater  kindness  from  the  people 
of  his  world  had  encompassed  his  ways  and 
works,  which  were  mostly  obstreperous.  He 
sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  and  swung  his  bare 
legs  defiantly. 
24 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        25 

"  Punch-/W><j  going  to  bye-lo  ?  "  said  the 
ayah  suggestively. 

"  No,"  said  Punch.  "  Punch-fata  wants 
the  story  about  the  Ranee  that  was  turned 
into  a  tiger.  Meeta  must  tell  it,  and  the 
hamal  shall  hide  behind  the  door  and  make 
tiger  noises  at  the  proper  time." 

"  But  ]udy-l>al>a  will  wake  up,"  said  the 
ayah. 

"]\idy-baba  is  waking,"  piped  a  small  voice 
from  the  mosquito-curtains.  "  There  was  a 
Ranee  that  lived  at  Delhi.  Go  on,  Meeta," 
and  she  fell  fast  asleep  again  while  Meeta 
began  the  story. 

Never  had  Punch  secured  the  telling  of 
that  tale  with  so  little  opposition.  He  reflected 
for  a  long  time.  The  hamal  made  the  tiger- 
noises  in  twenty  different  keys. 

"  'Top ! "  said  Punch,  authoritatively. 
"  Why  doesn't  Papa  come  in  and  say  he  is 
going  to  give  me  put-put  1 " 

"  Punch-&al>a  is  going  away,"  said  the  ayah. 
"  In  another  week  there  will  be  no  Punch- 
baba  to  pull  my  hair  any  more."  She  sighed 
softly,  for  the  boy  of  the  household  was  very 
dear  to  her  heart. 

"Up  the  Ghauts  in  a  train  ? "  said  Punch, 
standing  on  his  bed.  "  All  the  way  to  Nas- 
sick  where  the  Ranee-Tiger  lives  ?  " 

"  Not  to  Nassick  this  year,  little  Sahib," 
said  Meeta,  lifting  him  on  his  shoulder. 
"  Down  to  the  sea  where  the  cocoanuts  are 


26  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

thrown,  and  across  the  sea  in  a  big  ship, 
Will  you  take  Meeta  with  you  to  Belait  ?  " 

"  You  shall  all  come,"  said  Punch,  from 
the  height  of  Meeta's  strong  arms.  "  Meeta 
and  the  ayah  and  the  hamal  and  Bhini-in-the- 
Garden,  and  the  salaam-Captain-Sahib-snake- 
man." 

There  was  no  mockery  in  Meeta's  voice 
when  he  replied — "  Great  is  the  Sahib's  favor," 
and  laid  the  little  man  down  in  the  bed,  while 
the  ayah,  sitting  in  the  moonlight  at  the  door- 
way, lulled  him  to  sleep  with  an  interminable 
canticle  such  as  they  sing  in  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic Church  at  Parel.  Punch  curled  himself 
into  a  ball  and  slept. 

Next  morning  Judy  shouted  that  there  was 
a  rat  in  the  nursery,  and  thus  he  forgot  to 
tell  her  the  wonderful  news.  It  did  not  much 
matter,  for  Judy  was  only  three,  and  she  would 
not  have  understood.  But  Punch  was  five ; 
and  he  knew  that  going  to  England  would  be 
much  nicer  than  a  trip  to  Nassick. 


And  Papa  and  Mama  sold  the  brougham 
and  the  piano,  and  stripped  the  house,  and 
curtailed  the  allowance  of  crockery  for  the 
daily  meals,  and  took  long  council  together 
over  a  bundle  of  letters  bearing  the  Rockling- 
ton  postmark. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  one  can't  be  cer- 
tain of  anything,"  said  Papa,  pulling  his 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         27 

mustache.  "  The  letters  in  themselves  are  ex- 
cellent, and  the  terms  are  moderate  enough." 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  the  children  will 
grow  up  away  from  me,"  thought  Mama ;  but 
she  did  not  say  it  aloud. 

"  We  are  only  one  case  among  hundreds," 
said  Papa,  bitterly.  "  You  shall  go  Home 
again  in  five  years,  dear." 

"  Punch  will  be  ten  then — and  Judy  eight. 
Oh,  how  long  and  long  and  long  the  time 
will  be  1  And  we  have  to  leave  them  among 
strangers." 

"  Punch  is  a  cheery  little  chap.  He's  sure 
to  make  friends  wherever  he  goes." 

"  And  who  could  help  loving  my  Ju  ? " 

They  were  standing  over  the  cots  in  the 
nursery  late  at  night,  and  I  think  that  Mama 
was  crying  softly.  After  Papa  had  gone 
away,  she  knelt  down  by  the  side  of  Judy's 
cot.  The  ayah  saw  her  and  put  up  a  prayer 
that  the  memsahib  might  never  find  the  love 
of  her  children  taken  away  from  her  and 
given  to  a  stranger. 

Mama's  own  prayer  was  a  slightly  illog- 
ical one.  Summarized  it  ran  : — "  Let  stran- 
gers love  my  children  and  be  as  good  to  them 
as  I  should  be,  but  let  me  preserve  their  love 
and  their  confidence  for  ever  and  ever. 
Amen."  Punch  scratched  himself  in  his  sleep, 
and  Judy  moaned  a  little.  That  seems  to  be 
the  only  answer  to  the  prayer  :  and,  next  day, 
they  all  went  down,  to  the  sea,  and  there  was 


28  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

a  scene  at  the  Apollo  Bunder  when  Punch 
discovered  that  Meeta  could  not.  come  too, 
and  Judy  learned  that  the  ayah. must  be  left 
behind.  But  Punch  found  a  thousand  fasci- 
nating things  in  the  rope,  block,  and  steam- 
pipe  line  ,  on  the  big  P.  and  O.  Steamer,  long 
before  Meeta  and  the  ayah  had  dried  their 
tears. 

"  Come  back,  Punch-&z&z,"  said  the  ayah. 

"  Come  back,"  said  Meeta,  "  and  be  a  Burra 
Sahib." 

"  Yes,"  said  Punch,  lifted  up  in  his  father's 
arms  to  wave  good-by.  "Yes,  I  will  come 
back,  and  'I  will  be  a  Burra  Sahib  Baha 
dur  > " 

At  the  end  of  the  first  day  Punch  demanded 
to  be  set  down  in  England,  which,  he  was 
certain  must  be  close  at  hand.  Next  day 
there  was  a  merry  breeze,  and  Punch  was  very 
sick.  "  When  I  come  back  to  Bombay,"  said 
Punch  on  his  recovery,  "  I  will  come  by  the 
road — in  a  broom-gtiarri.  This  is  a  very 
naughty  ship." 

The  Swedish  boatswain  consoled  him,  and 
he  modified  his  opinions  as  the  voyage  went 
on.  There  was  so  much  to  see  and  to  handle 
and  ask  questions  about  that  Punch  nearly 
forgot  the  ayah  and  Meeta  and  the  hamal,  and 
with  difficulty  remembered  a  few  words  of 
the  Hindustani,  once  his  second-speech. 

But  Judy  was  much  worse.  The  day  before 
the  steamer  reached  Southampton,  Mama 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         29 

asked  her  if  she  would  not  like  to  see  the  ttya/t 
again.  Judy's  blue  eyes  turned  to  the  stretch 
of  sea  that  had  swallowed  all  her  tiny  past, 
and  she  said  : — 

"  Ayah  !    What  ayah  ?  " 

Mama  cried  over  her  and  Punch  marveled. 
It  was  then  that  he  heard  for  the  first  time 
Mama's  passionate  appeal  to  him  never  to  let 
Judy  forget  Mama.  Seeing  that  Judy  was 
young,  ridiculously  young,  and  that  Mama, 
every  evening  for  four  weeks  past,  had  come 
into  the  cabin  to  sing  her  and  Punch  to  sleep 
with  a  mysterious  rune  that  he  called  "  Sonny, 
my  soul,"  Punch  could  not  understand  what 
Mama  meant.  But  he  strove  to  do  his  duty ; 
for,  the  moment  Mama  left  the  cabin,  he  said 
to  Judy : — "  Ju,  you  bemember  Mama  ?  " 

"  'Torse  I  do,"  said  Judy. 

"  Then  always  bemember  Mama,  'r  else  I 
won't  give  you  the  paper  ducks  that  the  red- 
haired  Captain  Sahib  cut  out  for  me." 

So  Judy  promised  always  to  "  bemember 
Mama." 

Many  and  many  a  time  was  Mama's  com- 
mand laid  upon  Punch,  and  Papa  would  say 
the  same  thing  with  an  insistence  that  awed 
the  child. 

"  You  must  make  haste  and  learn  to  write, 
Punch,"  said  Papa,  "  and  then  you'll  be  able 
to  write  letters  to  us  in  Bombay." 

"  I'll  come  into  your  room,"  said  Punch,  and 
Papa  choked. 


30  Wee  Willie  Winkle 

Papa  and  Mama  were  always  choking  in 
those  days.  If  Punch  took  Judy  to  task  for 
not  "  bemembering,"  they  choked.  If  Punch 
sprawled  on  the  sofa  in  the  Southampton 
lodging-house  and  sketched  his  future  in  purple 
and  gold,  they  choked ;  and  so  they  did  if  Judy 
put  up  her  mouth  for  a  kiss. 

Through  many  days  all  four  were  vagabonds 
on  the  face  of  the  earth : — Punch  with  no  one 
to  give  orders  to,  Judy  too  young  for  any- 
thing, and  Papa  and  Mama  grave,  distracted, 
and  choking. 

"  Where,"  demanded  Punch,  wearied  of  a 
loathsome  contrivance  on  four  wheels  with  a 
mound  of  luggage  atop — "  where  is  our  broom- 
gharri?  This  thing  talks  so  much  that  / 
can't  talk.  Where  is  our  own  broom-gftarri  ? 
When  I  was  at  Bandstand  before  we  corned 
away,  I  asked  Inverarity  Sahib  why  he  was 
sitting  in  it,  and  he  said  it  was  his  own. 
And  I  said,  '  I  will  give  it  you ' — I  like  Inver- 
arity Sahib — and  I  said,  '  Can  you  put  your 
legs  through  the  pully-wag  loops  by  the  win- 
dows ? '  And  Inverarity  Sahib  said  No,  and 
laughed.  /  can  put  my  legs  through  the  pully- 
wag  loops.  I  can  put  my  legs  through  these 
pully-wag  loops.  Look !  Oh,  Mama's  cry- 
ing again  I  I  didn't  know.  I  wasn't  not  to 
do  so." 

Punch  drew  his  legs  out  of  the  loops  of 
the  four-wheeler  :  the  door  opened  and  he  slid 
to  the  earth,  in  a  cascade  of  parcels,  at  the 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         31 

door  of  an  austere  little  villa  whose  gates  bore 
the  legend  "  Downe  Lodge."  Punch  gathered 
himself  together  and  eyed  the  house  with 
disfavor.  It  stood  on  a  sandy  road,  and  a 
cold  wind  tickled  his  knickerbockered  legs. 

"  Let  us  go  away,"  said  Punch.  "  This  is 
not  a  pretty  place." 

But  Mama  and  Papa  and  Judy  had  quitted 
the  cab,  and  all  the  luggage  was  being  taken 
into  the  house.  At  the  doorstep  stood  a 
woman  in  black,  and  she  smiled  largely,  with 
dry  chapped  lips.  Behind  her  was  a  man,  big, 
bony,  gray,  and  lame  as  to  one  leg — behind 
him  a  boy  of  twelve,  black-haired  and  oily 
in  appearance.  Punch  surveyed  the  trio,  and 
advanced  without  fear,  as  he  had  been  ac- 
customed to  do  in  Bombay  when  callers  came 
and  he  happened  to  be  playing  in  the  veranda. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  he.  "  I  am 
Punch."  But  they  were  all  looking  at  the 
luggage — all  except  the  gray  man,  who  shook 
hands  with  Punch  and  said  he  was  "  a  smart 
little  fellow."  There  was  much  running  about 
and  banging  of  boxes,  and  Punch  curled  him- 
self up  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room  and 
considered  things. 

"  I  don't  like  these  people,"  said  Punch. 
"  But  never  mind.  We'll  go  away  soon.  We 
have  always  went  away  soon  from  everywhere. 
I  wish  we  was  gone  back  to  Bombay  soon." 

The  wish  bore  no  fruit.  For  six  days 
Mama  wept  at  intervals,  and  showed  the  woman 


32  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

in  black  all  Punch's  clothes — a  liberty  which 
Punch  resented.  "  But  p'r'aps  she's  a  new 
white  ayah"  he  thought.  "  I'm  to  call  her 
Antirosa,  but  she  doesn't  call  me  Sahib.  She 
says  just  Punch,"  he  confided  to  Judy.  "  What 
is  Antirosa  ?  " 

Judy  didn't  know.  Neither  she  nor  Punch 
had  heard  anything  of  an  animal  called  an 
aunt.  Their  world  had  been  Papa  and  Mama, 
who  knew  everything,  permitted  everything, 
and  loved  everybody — even  Punch  when  he 
used  to  go  into  the  garden  at  Bombay  and 
fill  his  nails  with  mold  after  the  weekly  nail- 
cutting,  because,  as  he  explained  between  two 
strokes  of  the  slipper  to  his  sorely  tried  Father, 
his  fingers  "  felt  so  new  at  the  ends." 

In  an  undefined  way  Punch  judged  it  advis- 
able to  keep  both  parents  between  himself 
and  the  woman  in  black  and  the  boy  in  black 
hair.  He  did  not  approve  of  them.  He 
liked  the  gray  man,  who  had  expressed  a 
wish  to  be  called  "  Uncleharri."  They  nodded 
at  each  other  when  they  met,  and  the  gray  man 
showed  him  a  little  ship  with  rigging  that  took 
up  and  down. 

"  She  is  a  model  of  the  Brisk — the  little 
Brisk  that  was  sore  exposed  that  day  at 
Navarino."  The  gray  man  hummed  the  last 
words  and  fell  into  a  reverie.  "I'll  tell  you 
about  Navarino,  Punch,  when  we  go  for  walks 
together ;  and  you  mustn't  touch  the  ship,  be- 
cause she's  the  Brisk." 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        33 

Long  before  that  walk,  the  first  of  many, 
was  taken,  they  roused  Punch  and  Judy  in 
the  chill  dawn  of  a  February  morning  to  say 
Good-by  ;  and  of  all  people  in  the  wide  earth 
to  Papa  and  Mama — both  crying  this  time. 
Punch  was  very  sleepy  and  Judy  was  cross. 

"  Don't  forget  us,"  pleaded  Mama.  "  Oh, 
my  little  son,  don't  forget  us,  and  see  that 
Judy  remembers  too." 

"  I've  told  Judy  to  bemember,"  said  Punch, 
wriggling,  for  his  father's  beard,  tickled  his 
neck.  "  I've  told  Judy — ten — forty — 'leven 
thousand  times.  But  Ju's  so  young — quite  a 
baby — isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Papa,  "  quite  a  baby,  and 
you  must  be  good  to  Judy,  and  make  haste 
to  learn  to  write  and — and — and  "... 

Punch  was  back  in  his  bed  again.  Judy 
was  fast  asleep,  and  there  was  the  rattle  of 
a.,  cab  below.  Papa  and  Mama  had  gone 
away.  Not  to  Nassick ;  that  was  across  the 
sea.  To  some  place  much  nearer,  of  course, 
and  equally  of  course  they  would  return. 
They  came  back  after  dinner-parties,  and 
Papa  had  come  back  after  he  had  been  to 
a  place  called  "  The  Snows,"  and  Mama 
with  him,  to  Punch  and  Judy  at  Mrs,  Inver- 
arity's  house  in  Marine  Lines.  Assuredly  they 
would  come  back  again.  So  Punch  fell 
asleep  till  the  true  morning,  when  the  black- 
haired  boy  ,met  him  with  the  information  that 
Papa  and  Mama  had  gone  to  Bombay,  and 
3 


34          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

that  he  and  Judy  were  to  stay  at  Downe 
Lodge  "  forever."  Antirosa,  tearfully  appealed 
to  for  a  contradiction,  said  that  Harry  had 
spoken  the  truth,  and  that  it  behooved  Punch 
to  fold  up  his  clothes  neatly  on  going  to  bed. 
Punch  went  out  and  wept  bitterly  with  Judy, 
into  whose  fair  head  he  had  driven  some  ideas 
of  the  meaning  of  separation. 

When  a  matured  man  discovers  that  he 
has  been  deserted  by  Providence,  deprived 
of  his  God,  and  cast  without  help,  comfort, 
or  sympathy,  upon  a  world  which  is  new  and 
strange  to  him,  his  despair,  which  may  find 
expression  in  evil-living,  the  writing  of  his 
experiences,  or  the  more  satisfactory  diversion 
of  suicide,  is  generally  supposed  to  be  im- 
pressive. A  child,  under  exactly  similar 
circumstances  as  far  as  its  knowledge  goes, 
cannot  very  well  curse  God  and  die.  It 
howls  till  its  nose  is  red,  its  eyes  are  sore,  and 
its  head  aches.  Punch  and  Judy,  through 
no  fault  of  their  own,  had  lost  all  their  world, 
They  sat  in  the  hall  and  cried ;  the  black- 
haired  boy  looking  on  from  afar. 

The  model  of  the  ship  availed  nothing, 
though  the  gray  man  assured  Punch  that  he 
might  pull  the  rigging  up  and  down  as  much 
as  he  pleased ;  and  Judy  was  promised  free 
entry  into  the  kitchen.  They  wanted  Papa 
and  Mama  gone  to  Bombay  beyond  the  seas, 
and  their  grief  while  it  lasted  was  withoul 
remedy. 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         35 

When  the  tears  ceased  the  house  was  very 
still.  Antirosa  had  decided  it  was  better  to 
let  the  children  "  have  their  cry  out,"  and  the 
boy  had  gone  to  school.  Punch  raised  his 
head  from  the  floor  and  sniffed  mournfully. 
Judy  was  nearly  asleep.  Three  short  years 
had  not  taught  her  how  to  bear  sorrow  with 
full  knowledge.  There  was  a  distant,  dull 
boom  in  the  air — a  repeated  heavy  thud. 
Punch  knew  that  sound  in  Bombay  in  the 
Monsoon.  It  was  the  sea — the  sea  that  must 
be  traversed  before  any  one  could  get  to 
Bombay. 

"  Quick,  Ju  1  "  he  cried,  "  we're  close  to  the 
sea.  I  can  hear  it  1  Listen  1  That's  where 
they've  went.  P'r'aps  we  can  catch  them  if 
we  was  in  time.  They  didn't  mean  to  go 
without  us.  They've  only  forgot." 

"  Iss,"  said  Judy.  "  They've  only  forgotted. 
Less  go  to  the  sea." 

The  hall-door  was  open  and  so  was  the 
garden-gate. 

41  It's  very,  very  big,  this  place,"  he  said, 
looking  cautiously  down  the  road,  "  and  we 
will  get  lost;  but  /will  find  a  man  and  order 
him  to  take  me  back  to  my  house — like  I  did 
in  Bombay." 

He  took  Judy  by  the  hand,  and  the  two 
fled  hatless  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  of 
the  sea.  Downe  Villa  was  almost  the  last  of 
a  range  of  newly-built  houses  running  out, 
through  a  chaos  of  brick-mounds,  to  a  heath 


36  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

where  gipsies  occasionally  camped  and  where 
the  Garrison  Artillery  of  Rocklington  prac- 
tised. There  were  few  people  to  be  seen, 
and  the  children  might  have  been  taken  for 
those  of  the  soldiery  who  ranged  far.  Half  an 
hour  the  wearied  little  legs  tramped  across 
heath,  potato-field,  and  sand-dune. 

"  I'se  so  tired,"  said  Judy,  "  and  Mama 
will  be  angry." 

"  Mama's  never  angry.  I  suppose  she  is 
waiting  at  the  sea  now  while  Papa  gets  tickets. 
We'll  find  them  and  go  along  with.  Ju,  you 
mustn't  sit  down.  Only  a  little  more  and  we'll 
come  to  the  sea.  Ju,  if  you  sit  down  I'll 
thmack  you  !  "  said  Punch. 

They  climbed  another  dune,  and  came 
upon  the  great  gray  sea  at  low  tide.  Hun- 
dreds of  crabs  were  scuttling  about  the  beach, 
but  there  was  no  trace  of  Papa  and  Mama, 
not  even  of  a  ship  upon  the  waters — nothing 
but  sand  and  mud  for  miles  and  miles. 

And  "  Uncleharri  "  found  them  by  chance 
— very  muddy  and  very  forlorn — Punch  dis- 
solved in  tears,  but  trying  to  divert  Judy  with 
an  "  ickle  trab,"  and  Judy  wailing  to  the  piti- 
less horizon  for  "  Mama,  Mama  I " — and 
again  "  Mama  1  ° 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         37 


THE  SECOND  BAG. 

AH,  well-a-day,  for  we  are  souls  bereaved  ! 
Of  all  the  creatures  under  Heaven's  wide  scope 
We  are  most  hopeless,  who  had  once  most  hope, 
And  most  belierless,  who  had  most  believed. 

The  City  of  Dreadful  Night. 

ALL  this  time  not  a  word  about  Black 
Sheep.  He  came  later,  and  Harry  the  black- 
haired  boy  was  mainly  responsible  for  his 
coming. 

Judy — who  could  help  loving  little  Judy  ? — 
passed,  by  special  permit,  into  the  kitchen 
and  thence  straight  to  Aunty  Rosa's  heart. 
Harry  was  Aunty  Rosa's  one  child,  and  Punch 
was  the  extra  boy  about  the  house.  There 
was  no  special  place  for  him  or  his  little 
affairs,  and  he  was  forbidden  to  sprawl  on 
sofas  and  explain  his  ideas  about  the  manu- 
facture of  this  world  and  his  hopes  for  his 
future.  Sprawling  was  lazy  and  wore  out 
sofas,  and  little  boys  were  not  expected  to 
talk.  They  were  talked  to,  and  the  talking  to 
was  intended  for  the  benefit  of  their  morals. 
As  the  unquestioned  despot  of  the  house  at 
Bombay,  Punch  could  not  quite  understand 
how  he  came  to  be  of  no  account  in  this  his 
new  life. 

Harry  might  reach  across  the  table  and 
take  what  he  wanted ;  Judy  might  point  and 


38          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

get  what  she  wanted.  Punch  was  forbidden 
to  do  either.  The  gray  man  was  his  great 
hope  and  stand-by  for  many  months  after 
Mama  and  Papa  left,  and  he  had  forgotten 
to  tell  Judy  to  "  bemember  Mama." 

This  lapse  was  excusable,  because  in  the 
interval  he  had  been  introduced  by  Aunty 
Rosa  to  two  very  impressive  things — an  ab- 
straction called  God,  the  intimate  friend  and 
ally  of  Aunty  Rosa,  generally  believed  to  live 
behind  the  kitchen  range  because  it  was  hot 
there — and  a  dirty  brown  book  filled  with  un- 
intelligible dots  and  marks.  Punch  was  al- 
ways anxious  to  oblige  everybody.  He,  there- 
fore, welded  the  story  of  the  Creation  on  to 
what  he  could  recollect  of  his  Indian  fairy 
tales,  and  scandalized  Aunty  Rosa  by  repeat- 
ing the  result  to  Judy.  It  was  a  sin,  a  griev- 
ous sin,  and  Punch  was  talked  to  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  He  could  not  understand  where 
the  iniquity  came  in,  but  was  careful  not  to 
repeat  the  offense,  because  Aunty  Rosa  told 
him  that  God  had  heard  every  word  he  had 
said  and  was  very  angry.  If  this  were  true 
why  didn't  God  come  and  say  so,  thought 
Punch,  and  dismissed  the  matter  from  his 
mind.  Afterwards  he  learned  to  know  the 
Lord  as  the  only  thing  in  the  world  more  aw- 
ful than  Aunty  Rosa — as  a  Creature  that  stood 
in  the  background  and  counted  the  strokes  of 
the  cane. 

But  the  reading  was,  just  then,  a  much  more 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         39 

serious  matter  than  any  creed.  Aunty  Rosa 
sat  him  upon  a  table  and  told  him  that  A  B 
meant  ab. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Punch.  "  A  is  a  and  B  i» 
bee.  Why  does  A  B  mean  ab  ?  " 

"  Because  I  tell  you  it  does,"  said  Aunty 
Rosa,  "  and  you've  got  to  say  it." 

Punch  said  it  accordingly,  and  for  a  month* 
hugely  against  his  will,  stumbled  through  the 
brown  book,  not  in  the  least  comprehending* 
what  it  meant.  But  Uncle  Harry,  who  walked 
much  and  generally  alone,  was  wont  to  come 
into  the  nursery  and  suggest  to  Aunty  Roso> 
that  Punch  should  walk  with  him.  He  sel- 
dom spoke,  but  he  showed  Punch  all  Rock- 
lington,  from  the  mud-banks  and  the  sand  oi 
the  back-bay  to  the  great  harbors  where  ship* 
lay  at  anchor,  and  the  dockyards  where  the 
hammers  were  never  still,  and  the  marine-store 
shops,  and  the  shiny  brass  counters  in  the 
Offices  where  Uncle  Harry  went  once  every 
three  months  with  a  slip  of  blue  paper  and1 
received  sovereigns  in  exchange  ;  for  he  held  a 
wound-pension.  Punch  heard,  too,  from  his' 
lips  the  story  of  the  battle  of  Navarino,  where 
the  sailors  of  the  Fleet,  for  three  days  after- 
wards, were  deaf  as  posts  and  could  only  sign* 
to  each  other.  "  That  was  because  of  the 
noise  of  the  guns,"  said  Uncle  Harry,  "  and  t- 
have  got  the  wadding  of  a  bullet  somewhere 
inside  me  now." 

Punch  regarded   him  with   curiosity.     He 


4O  Wee  Willie  Winkle 

had  not  the  least  idea  what  wadding  was,  and 
his  notion  of  a  bullet  was  a  dockyard  cannon- 
ball  bigger  than  his  own  head.  How  could 
Uncle  Harry  keep  a  cannon-ball  inside  him  ? 
He  was  ashamed  to  ask,  for  fear  Uncle  Harry 
might  be  angry. 

Punch  had  never  known  what  anger — real 
anger — meant  until  one  terrible  day  when 
Harry  had  taken  his  paint-box  to  paint  a  boat 
with,  and  Punch  had  protested  with  a  loud 
and  lamentable  voice.  Then  Uncle  Harry  had 
appeared  on  the  scene  and,  muttering  some- 
thing about  "  stranger's  children,"  had  with  a 
stick  smitten  the  black-haired  boy  across  the 
shoulders  till  he  wept  and  yelled,  and  Aunty 
Rosa  came  in  and  abused  Uncle  Harry  for 
cruelty  to  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  Punch 
shuddered  to  the  tips  of  his  shoes.  "  It  wasn't 
my  fault,"  he  explained  to  the  boy,  but  both 
Harry  and  Aunty  Rosa  said  that  it  was,  and  that 
Punch  had  told  tales,  and  for  a  week  there 
were  no  more  walks  with  Uncle  Harry. 

But  that  week  brought  a  great  joy  to 
Punch. 

He  had  repeated  till  he  was  thrice  weary 
the  statement  that  "  the  Cat  lay  on  the  Mat 
and  the  Rat  came  in." 

"  Now  I  can  truly  read,"  said  Punch,  "  and 
now  I  will  never  read  anything  in  the  world." 

He  put  the  brown  book  in  the  cupboard 
where  his  school-books  lived  and  accidentally 
tumbled  out  a  venerable  volume,  without  cov- 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        41 

ers,  labeled  Sharpe's  Magazine.  There  was 
the  most  portentous  picture  of  a  griffin  on 
the  first  page,  with  verses  below.  The  griffin 
carried  off  one  sheep  a  day  from  a  German 
village,  till  a  man  came  with  a  "  falchion  "  and 
split  the  griffin  open.  Goodness  only  knew 
what  a  falchion  was,  but  there  was  the  Griffin, 
and  his  history  was  an  improvement  upon  the 
eternal  Cat 

"  This,"  said  Punch,  "  means  things,  and 
now  I  will  know  all  about  everything  in  all 
the  world."  He  read  till  the  light  failed,  not 
understanding  a  tithe  of  the  meaning,  but 
tantalized  by  glimpses  of  new  worlds  here- 
after to  be  revealed. 

"  What  is  a  '  falchion  '  ?  What  is  a  '  e-wee 
lamb  '  ?  What  is  a  '  base  #,mirper '  ?  What 
is  a  '  verdant  me-ad  '  ?  "  he  demanded,  with 
flushed  cheeks,  at  bedtime,  of  the  astonished 
Aunt  Rosa. 

"  Say  your  prayers  and  go  to  sleep,"  she 
replied,  and  that  was  all  the  help  Punch  then 
or  afterwards  found  at  her  hands  in  the  new 
and  delightful  exercise  of  reading. 

"  Aunt  Rosa  only  knows  about  God  and 
things  like  that,"  argued  Punch.  "Uncle 
Harry  will  tell  me." 

The  next  walk  proved  that  Uncle  Harry 
could  not  help  either ;  but  he  allowed  Punch 
to  talk,  and  even  sat  down  on  a  bench  to  hear 
about  the  Griffin.  Other  walks  brought  othei 
stories  as  Punch  ranged  further  afield,  for  the 


42  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

house  held  large  store  of  old  books  that  no 
one  ever  opened — from  Frank  Fairlegh  in 
serial  numbers,  and  the  earlier  poems  of  Ten- 
nyson, contributed  anonymously  to  Sharpe's 
Magazine,  to  '62  Exhibition  Catalogues,  gay 
with  colors  and  delightfully  incomprehensible, 
and  odd  leaves  of  Gulliver's  Travels. 

As  soon  as  Punch  could  string  a  few  pot- 
hooks together,  he  wrote  to  Bombay,  demand- 
ing by  return  of  post  "  all  the  books  in  all  the 
world."  Papa  could  not  comply  with  this 
<nodest  indent,  but  sent  Grimm's  Fairy  Tales 
and  a  Hans  Andersen.  That  was  enough. 
If  he  were  only  left  alone  Punch  could  pass, 
at  any  hour  he  chose,  into  a  land  of  his  own, 
beyond  reach  of  Aunty  Rosa  and  her  God, 
Harry  and  his  teasements,  and  Judy's  claims 
to  be  played  with. 

"  Don't  disturve  me,  I'm  reading.  Go  and 
play  in  the  kitchen,"  grunted  Punch.  "  Aunty 
Rosa  lets  you  go  there."  Judy  was  cutting 
her  second  teeth  and  was  fretful.  She  ap- 
pealed to  Aunty  Rosa,  who  descended  on 
Punch. 

"  1  was  reading,"  he  exclaimed,  "  reading  a 
book.  I  ivant  to  read." 

"  You're  only  doing  that  to  show  off,"  said 
Aunty  Rosa.  "  But  we'll  see.  Play  with 
Judy  now,  and  don't  open  a  book  for  a  week." 

Judy  did  not  pass  a  very  enjoyable  play- 
time with  Punch,  who  was  consumed  with 
indignation.  There  was  a  pettiness  at  the 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         43 

bottom  of  the  prohibition  which  puzzled 
him. 

"  It's  what  I  like  to  do,"  he  said,  "  and 
she's  found  out  that  and  stopped  me.  Don't 
cry,  Ju — it  wasn't  your  fault — please  don't  cry, 
or  she'll  say  I  made  you." 

Ju  loyally  mopped  up  her  tears,  and  the  two 
played  in  their  nursery,  a  room  in  the  base- 
ment and  half  underground,  to  which  they 
were  regularly  sent  after  the  midday  dinner 
while  Aunty  Rosa  slept.  She  drank  wine — 
that  is  to  say,  something  from  a  bottle  in  the 
cellaret — for  her  stomach's  sake,  but  if  she 
did  not  fall  asleep  she  would  sometimes  come 
into  the  nursery  to  see  that  the  children  were 
really  playing.  Now  bricks,  wooden  hoops, 
ninepins,  and  chinaware  cannot  amuse  for- 
ever, especially  when  all  Fairyland  is  to  be 
won  by  the  mere  opening  of  a  book,  and,  as 
often  as  not,  Punch  would  be  discovered  read- 
ing to  Judy  or  telling  her  interminable  tales. 
That  was  an  offense  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
and  Judy  would  be  whisked  off  by  Aunty 
Rosa,  while  Punch  was  left  to  play  alone, 
"  and  be  sure  that  I  hear  you  doing  it." 

It  was  not  a  cheering  employ,  for  he  had  to 
make  a  playful  noise.  At  last,  with  infinite 
craft,  he  devised  an  arrangement  whereby  the 
table  could  be  supported  as  to  three  legs  on 
toy  bricks,  leaving  the  fourth  clear  to  bring 
down  on  the  floor.  He  could  work  the  table 
with  one  hand  and  hold  a  book  with  the  other. 


44 


Wee  Willie  Winkie 


This  he  did  till  an  evil  day  when  Aunty  Rosa 
pounced  upon  him  unawares  and  told  him  that 
he  was  "  acting  a  lie." 

"  If  you're  old  enough  to  do  that,"  she  said 
— her  temper  was  always  worst  after  dinner — 
"  you're  old  enough  to  be  beaten." 

"  But — I'm — I'm  not  a  animal  1  "  said  Punch, 
.aghast.  He  remembered  Uncle  Harry  and 
the  stick,  and  turned  white.  Aunty  Rosa  had 
hidden  a  light  cane  behind  her,  and  Punch 
was  beaten  then  and  there  over  the  shoulders. 
It  was  a  revelation  to  him.  The  room-door 
was  shut,  and  he  was  left  to  weep  himself  into 
repentance  and  work  out  his  own  Gospel  of 
Life. 

Aunty  Rosa,  he  argued,  had  the  power  to 
beat  him  with  many  stripes.  It  was  unjust 
and  cruel,  and  Mama  and  Papa  would  never 
have  allowed  it.  Unless  perhaps,  as  Aunty 
Rosa  seemed  to  imply,  they  had  sent  secret 
orders.  In  which  case  he  was  abandoned  in- 
deed. It  would  be  discreet  in  the  future  to 
propitiate  Aunty  Rosa,  but,  then,  again,  even 
in  matters  in  which  he  was  innocent,  he  had 
been  accused  of  wishing  to  "  show  off."  He 
had  "  shown  off  "  before  visitors  when  he  had 
attacked  a  strange  gentleman — Harry's  uncle, 
not  his  own — with  requests  for  information 
about  the  Griffin  and  the  falchion,  and  the 
precise  nature  of  the  Tilbury  in  which  Frank 
Fairlegh  rode — all  points  of  paramount  in- 
terest which  he  was  bursting  to  understand 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         45 

Clearly  it  would  not  do  to  pretend  to  care  for 
Aunty  Rosa. 

At  this  point  Harry  entered  and  stood  afar 
off,  eying  Punch,  a  disheveled  heap  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  with  disgust. 

"  You're  a  liar — a  young  liar,"  said  Harry, 
with  great  unction,  "  and  you're  to  have  tea 
down  here  because  you're  not  fit  to  speak  to 
us.  And  you're  not  to  speak  to  Judy  again 
till  Mother  gives  you  leave.  You'll  corrupt 
her.  You're  only  fit  to  associate  with  the 
servant.  Mother  says  so."  ** 

Having  reduced  Punch  to  a  second  agony 
of  tears,  Harry  departed  up-stairs  with  the 
news  that  Punch  was  still  rebellious. 

Uncle  Harry  sat  uneasily  in  the  dining- 
room.  "  Damn  it  all,  Rosa,"  said  he  at  last, 
"  can't  you  leave  the  child  alone  ?  He's  a 
good  enough  little  chap  when  I  meet  him." 

"  He  puts  on  his  best  manners  with  you, 
Henry,"  said  Aunty  Rosa,  "  but  I'm  afraid, 
I'm  very  much  afraid,  that  he  is  the  Black 
Sheep  of  the  family." 

Harry  heard  and  stored  up  the  name  for 
future  use.  Judy  cried  till  she  was  bidden 
to  stop,  her  brother  not  being  worth  tears ; 
and  the  evening  concluded  with  the  return  of 
Punch  to  the  upper  regions  and  a  private  sit- 
ting at  which  all  the  blinding  horrors  of  Hell 
were  revealed  to  Punch  with  such  store  of 
imagery  as  Aunty  Rosa's  narrow  mind  pos- 
sessed. 


Wee  Willie  Winkie 


Most  grievous  of  all  was  Judy's  round-eyed 
reproach,  and  Punch  went  to  bed  in  the  depths 
of  the  Valley  of  Humiliation.  He  shared  his 
room  with  Harry  and  knew  the  torture  in  store. 
For  an  hour  and  a  half  he  had  to  answer  that 
young  gentleman's  question  as  to  his  motives 
for  telling  a  lie,  and  a  grievous  lie,  the  precise 
quantity  of  punishment  inflicted  by  Aunty 
Rosa,  and  had  also  to  profess  his  deep  grati- 
tude for  such  religious  instruction  as  Harry 
thought  fit  to  impart. 

From  that  day  began  the  downfall  of  Punch, 
now  Black  Sheep. 

"  Untrustworthy  in  one  thing,  untrustworthy 
in  all,"  said  Aunty  Rosa,  and  Harry  felt  that 
Black  Sheep  was  delivered  into  his  hands. 
He  would  wake  him  up  in  the  night  to  ask 
him  why  he  was  such  a  liar. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Punch  would  reply. 

"  Then  don't  you  think  you  ought  to  get 
up  and  pray  to  God  for  a  new  heart  ?  " 

"  Y-yess." 

"  Get  out  and  pray,  then !  "  And  Punch 
would  get  out  of  bed  with  raging  hate  in  his 
heart  against  all  the  world,  seen  and  unseen. 
He  was  always  tumbling  into  trouble.  Harry 
had  a  knack  of  cross-examining  him  as  to  his 
day's  doings,  which  seldom  failed  to  lead  him, 
sleepy  and  savage,  into  half  a  dozen  contradic- 
tions— all  duly  reported  to  Aunty  Rosa  next 
morning. 

"  But  it  wasn't  a  lie,"  Punch  would  begin. 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         ^7 

charging  into  a  labored  explanation  that  landed 
him  more  hopelessly  in  the  mire.  "  I  said 
that  I  didn't  say  my  prayers  twice  over  in  the 
day,  and  that  was  on  Tuesday.  Once  I  did. 
I  know  I  did,  but  Harry  said  I  didn't,"  and  so 
forth,  till  the  tension  brought  tears,  and  he 
was  dismissed  from  the  table  in  disgrace. 

"  You  usen't  to  be  as  bad  as  this  ?  "  said 
Judy,  awe-stricken  at  the  catalogue  of  Black 
Sheep's  crimes.  "  Why  are  you  so  bad 
now  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Black  Sheep  would  reply. 
"I'm  not,  if  I  only  wasn't  bothered  upside 
down.  I  knew  what  I  did,  and  1  want  to  say 
so ;  but  Harry  always  makes  it  out  different 
somehow,  and  Aunty  Rosa  doesn't  believe  a 
word  I  say.  '  Oh,  Ju  1  don't  you  say  I'm  bad 
too." 

"Aunty  Rosa  says  you  are,"  said  Judy. 
"  She  told  the  Vicar  so  when  he  came  yester- 
day." 

"  Why  does  she  tell  all  the  people  outside 
the  house  about  me  ?  It  isn't  fair,"  said 
Black  Sheep.  "  When  I  was  in  Bombay,  and 
was  bad — doing  bad,  not  made-up  bad  like 
this — Mama  told  Papa,  and  Papa  told  me 
he  knew,  and  that  was  all.  Outside  people 
didn't  know  too — even  Meeta  didn't  know." 

"I  don't  remember,"  said  Judy  wistfully. 
"  I  was  all  little  then.  Mama  was  just 
as  fond  of  you  as  she  was  of  me,  wasn't 
8he  ?  " 


Wee  Willie  Winkie 


"  'Course  she  was.  So  was  Papa.  So  was 
everybody." 

"  Aunty  Rosa  likes  me  more  than  she  does 
you.  She  says  that  you  are  a  Trial  and  a 
Black  Sheep,  and  I'm  not  to  speak  to  you 
more  than  I  can  help." 

"  Always  ?  Not  outside  of  the  times  when 
you  mustn't  speak  to  me  at  all  ? " 

Judy  nodded  her  head  mournfully.  Black 
Sheep  turned  away  in  despair,  but  Judy's  arms 
were  round  his  neck. 

"  Never  mind,  Punch,"  she  whispered.  "  I 
will  speak  to  you  just  the  same  as  ever  and 
ever.  You're  my  own  brother  though  you 
are — though  Aunty  Rosa  says  you're  Bad, 
and  Harry  says  you're  a  little  coward.  He 
says  that  if  I  pulled  your  hair  hard,  you'd 
cry." 

«•  Pull,  then,"  said  Punch. 

Judy  pulled  gingerly. 

"  Pull  harder — as  hard  as  you  can  !  There  I 
I  don't  mind  how  much  you  pull  it  now.  If 
you'll  speak  to  me  same  as  ever  I'll  let  you 
pull  it  as  much  as  you  like — pull  it  out  if  you 
like.  But  I  know  if  Harry  came  and  stood  by 
and  made  you  do  it  I'd  cry." 

So  the  two  children  sealed  the  compact  with 
a  kiss,  and  Black  Sheep's  heart  was  cheered 
within  him,  and  by  extreme  caution  and  care- 
ful avoidance  of  Harry  he  acquired  virtue,  and 
was  allowed  to  read  undisturbed  for  a  week. 
Uncle  Harry  took  him  for  walks  and  consoled 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         49 

him  with  rough  tenderness,  never  calling  him 
Black  Sheep.  "  It's  good  for  you,  I  suppose, 
Punch,"  he  used  to  say.  "  Let  us  sit  down. 
I'm  getting  tired."  His  steps  led  him  now  not 
to  the  beach,  but  to  the  Cemetery  of  Rock- 
lington,  amid  the  potato-fields.  For  hours  the 
gray  man  would  sit  on  a  tombstone,  while 
Black  Sheep  read  epitaphs,  and  then  with  a 
sigh  would  stump  home  again. 

"  I  shall  lie  there  soon,"  said  he  to  Black 
Sheep,  one  winter  evening,  when  his  face 
showed  white  as  a  worn  silver  coin  under  the 
lights  of  the  chapel-lodge.  "  You  needn't  tell 
Aunty  Rosa." 

A  month  later,  he  turned  sharp  round,  ere 
half  a  morning  walk  was  completed,  and 
stumped  back  to  the  house.  "  Put  me  to  bed, 
Rosa,"  he  muttered.  "  I've  walked  my  last. 
The  wadding  has  found  me  out." 

They  put  him  to  bed,  and  for  a  fortnight 
the  shadow  of  his  sickness  lay  upon  the  house, 
and  Black  Sheep  went  to  and  fro  unobserved. 
Papa  had  sent  him  some  new  books,  and  he 
was  told  to  keep  quiet.  He  retired  into  his 
own  world,  and  was  perfectly  happy.  Even 
at  night  his  felicity  was  unbroken.  He  could 
lie  in  bed  and  string  himself  tales  of  travel 
and  adventure  while  Harry  was  down- 
stairs. 

"  Uncle  Harry's  going  to  die,"  said  Judy, 
who  now  lived  almost  entirely  with  Aunty 
Rosa. 


50          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Black  Sheep  soberly. 
"  He  told  me  that  a  long  time  ago." 

Aunty  Rosa  heard  the  conversation.  "  Will 
nothing  check  your  wicked  tongue  ? "  she  said 
angrily.  There  were  blue  circles  round  her 
eyes. 

Black  Sheep  retreated  to  the  nursery  and 
read  "  Cometh  up  as  a  flower"  with  deep 
and  uncomprehending  interest.  He  had  been 
forbidden  to  read  it  on  account  of  its  "  sinful- 
ness,"  but  the  bonds  of  the  Universe  were 
crumbling,  and  Aunty  Rosa  was  in  great 
grief. 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Black  Sheep.  "She's 
unhappy  now.  It  wasn't  a  lie,  though.  J 
knew.  He  told  me  not  to  tell." 

That  night  Black  Sheep  woke  with  a  start 
Harry  was  not  in  the  room  and  there  was  a 
sound  of  sobbing  on  the  next  floor.  Then 
the  voice  of  Uncle  Harry,  singing  the  song  of 
the  Battle  of  Navarino,  cut  through  the  dark- 
ness : — 

"  Our  vanship  was  the  Asia — 
The  Albion  and  Genoa  1 " 

"  He's  getting  well,"  thought  Black  Sheep, 
who  knew  the  song  through  all  its  seven- 
teen verses.  But  the  blood  froze  at  his  lit« 
tie  heart  as  he  thought.  The  voice  leapt 
an  octave  and  rang  shrill  as  a  boatswain's 
pipe :— 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        51 

"  And  next  came  on  the  lovely  Rose, 
The  Philomel,  her  fire-ship,  closed, 
And  the  little  Brisk  was  sore  exposed 
That  day  at  Navarino." 

"  That  day  at  Navarino,  Uncle  Harry  1 " 
shouted  Black  Sheep,  half  wild  with  excite- 
ment and  fear  of  he  knew  not  what. 

A  door  opened  and  Aunty  Rosa  screamed 
up  the  staircase  : — "  Hush  1  For  God's  sake 
hush,  you  little  devil.  Uncle  Harry  is  deadl" 


THE  THIRD  BAG. 

JOURXEYS  end  In  lovers*  meeting, 
Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 

"  I  WONDER  what  will  happen  to  me  now," 
thought  Black  Sheep,  when  the  semi-pagan 
rites  peculiar  to  the  burial  of  the  Dead  in 
middle-class  houses  had  been  accomplished, 
and  Aunty  Rosa,  awful  in  black  crape,  had 
returned  to  this  life.  "  I  don't  think  I've 
done  anything  bad  that  she  knows  of.  I 
suppose  I  will  soon.  She  will  be  very  cross 
after  Uncle  Harry's  dying,  and  Harry  will  be 
cross  too.  I'll  keep  in  the  nursery." 

Unfortunately  for  Punch's  plans,  it  was 
decided  that  he  should  be  sent  to  a  day-school 
which  Harrv  attended.  This  meant  a  morn. 


52  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

ing  walk  with  Harry,  and  perhaps  an  evening 
one ;  but  the  prospect  of  freedom  in  the 
interval  was  refreshing.  "  Harry'll  tell  every- 
thing I  do,  but  I  won't  do  anything,"  said 
Black  Sheep.  Fortified  with  this  virtuous  res- 
olution, he  went  to  school  only  to  find  that 
Harry's  version  of  his  character  had  preceded 
him,  and  that  life  was  a  burden  in  "conse- 
quence. He  took  stock  of  his  associates. 
Some  of  them  were  unclean,  some  of  them 
talked  in  dialect,  many  dropped  their  h's,  and 
there  were  two  Jews  and  a  negro,  or  some  one 
quite  as  dark,  in  the  assembly.  "  That's  a 
hubshi"  said  Black  Sheep  to  himself.  "  Even 
Meeta  used  to  laugh  at  a  hubshi.  I  don't 
think  this  is  a  proper  place."  He  was  indig- 
nant for  at  least  an  hour,  till  he  reflected  that 
any  expostulation  on  his  part  would  be  by 
Aunty  Rosa  construed  into  "  showing  off," 
and  that  Harry  would  tell  the  boys. 

"  How  do  you  like  school  ?  "  said  Aunty 
Rosa  at  the  end  of  the  day. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  very  nice  place,"  said  Punch 
quietly. 

"  I  suppose  you  warned  the  boys  of  Black 
Sheep's  character  ? "  said  Aunty  Rosa  to 
Harry. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  censor  of  Black  Sheep's 
morals.  "  They  know  all  about  him." 

"  If  I  was  with  my  father,"  said  Black 
Sheep,  stung  to  the  quick,  "  I  shouldn't  speak 
to  those  boys.  He  wouldn't  let  me.  They 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         53 

five  in  shops.     I  saw  them  go   into  shops — 
where  their  fathers  live  and  sell  things." 

"You're  too  good  for  that  school,  are 
you  ?  "  said  Aunty  Rosa,  with  a  bitter  smile. 
"  You  ought  to  be  grateful,  Black  Sheep,  that 
those  boys  speak  to  you  at  all.  It  isn't  every 
school  that  takes  little  liars." 

Harry  did  not  fail  to  make  much  capital  out 
of  Black  Sheep's  ill-considered  remark  ;  with 
the  result  that  several  boys,  including  the  hub- 
s/ii,  demonstrated  to  Black  Sheep  the  eternal 
equality  of  the  human  race  by  smacking  his 
head,  and  his  consolation  from  Aunty  Rosa 
was  that  it  "  served  him  right  for  being  vain." 
He  learned,  however,  to  keep  his  opinions  to 
himself,  and  by  propitiating  Harry  in  carrying 
books  and  the  like  to  secure  a  little  peace. 
His  existence  was  not  too  joyful.  From  nine 
till  twelve  he  was  at  school,  and  from  two  to 
four,  except  on  Saturdays.  In  the  evenings 
he  was  sent  down  into  the  nursery  to  prepare 
his  lessons  for  the  next  day,  and  every  night 
came  the  dreaded  cross-questionings  at 
Harry's  hand.  Of  Judy  he  saw  but  little. 
She  was  deeply  religious — at  six  years  of  age 
Religion  is  easy  to  come  by — and  sorely 
divided  between  her  natural  love  for  Black 
Sheep  and  her  love  for  Aunty  Rosa,  who 
could  do  wrong. 

The  lean  woman  returned  that  love  with 
interest,  and  Judy,  when  she  dared,  took 
advantage  of  this  for  the  remission  of  Black 


54  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Sheep's  penalties.  Failures  in  lessons  at 
school  were  punished  at  home  by  a  week 
without  reading  other  than  schoolbooks,  and 
Harry  brought  the  news  of  such  a  failure  with 
glee.  Further,  Black  Sheep  was  then  bound 
to  repeat  his  lessons  at  bedtime  to  Harry,  who 
generally  succeeded  in  making  him  break 
down,  and  consoled  him  by  gloomiest  fore- 
bodings for  the  morrow.  Harry  was  at  once 
spy,  practical  joker,  inquisitor,  and  Aunty 
Rosa's  deputy  executioner.  He  filled  his  many 
posts  to  admiration.  From  his  actions  now 
that  Uncle  Harry  was  dead,  there  was  no  ap- 
peal. Black  Sheep  had  not  been  permitted  to 
keep  any  self-respect  at  school :  at  home  he  was 
of  course  utterly  discredited,  and  grateful  for 
any  pity  that  the  servant  girls — they  changed 
frequently  at  Downe  Lodge,  because  they,  too, 
were  liars — might  show.  "  You're  just  fit  to 
row  in  the  same  boat  with  Black  Sheep,"  was 
a  sentiment  that  each  new  Jane  or  Eliza  might 
expect  to  hear,  before  a  month  was  over,  from 
Aunty  Rosa's  lips  ;  and  Black  Sheep  was  used 
to  ask  new  girls  whether  they  had  yet  been 
compared  to  him.  Harry  was  "  Master 
Harry  "  in  their  mouths  ;  Judy  was  officially 
"  Miss  Judy  " ;  but  Black  Sheep  was  never 
anything  more  than  Black  Sheep  tout  court. 

As  time  went  on  and  the  memory  of  Papa 
and  Mama  became  wholly  overlaid  by  the 
unpleasant  task  of  writing  them  letters,  under 
Aunty  Rosa's  eye,  each  Sunday,  Black  Sheep 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         55 

forgot  what  manner  of  life  he  had  led  in  the 
beginning  of  things.  Even  Judy's  appeals  to 
"  try  and  remember  about  Bombay  "  failed  to 
quicken  him. 

"  I  can't  remember,"  he  said.  "  I  know  I 
used  to  give  orders  and  Mama  kissed  me." 

"  Aunty  Rosa  will  kiss  you  if  you  are  good," 
pleaded  Judy. 

"  Ugh  1  I  don't  want  to  be  kissed  by  Aunty 
Rosa.  She'd  say  I  was  doing  it  to  get  some- 
thing more  to  eat." 

The  weeks  lengthened  into  months,  and  the 
holidays  came ;  but  just  before  the  holidays 
Black  Sheep  fell  into  deadly  sin. 

Among  the  many  boys  whom  Harry  had 
incited  to  "  punch  Black  Sheep's  head  because 
he  daren't  hit  back,"  was  one  more  aggravat- 
ing than  the  rest,  who,  in  an  unlucky  moment, 
fell  upon  Black  Sheep  when  Harry  was  not 
near.  The  blows  stung,  and  Black  Sheep 
struck  back  at  random  with  all  the  power  at 
his  command.  The  boy  dropped  and  whim- 
pered. Black  Sheep  was  astounded  at  his 
own  act,  but,  feeling  the  unresisting  body  un- 
der him,  shook  it  with  both  his  hands  in  blind 
fury  and  then  began  to  throttle  his  enemy ; 
meaning  honestly  to  slay  him.  There  was  a 
scuffle,  and  Black  Sheep  was  torn  off  the  body 
by  Harry  and  some  colleagues,  and  cuffed 
home  tingling  but  exultant.  Aunty  Rosa 
was  out :  pending  her  arrival,  Harry  set 
himself  to  lecture  Black  Sheep  on  the  sin  of 


56  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

murder — which  he  described  as  the  offense  of 
Cain. 

"  Why  didn't  you  fight  him  fair  ?  What  did 
you  hit  him  when  he  was  down  for,  you  little 
cur?" 

Black  Sheep  looked  up  at  Harry's  throat 
and  then  at  a  knife  on  the  dinner-table. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  said  wearily. 
"  You  always  set  him  on  me  and  told  me  I 
was  a  coward  when  I  blubbed.  Will  you  leave 
me  alone  until  Aunty  Rosa  comes  in  ?  She'll 
beat  me  if  you  tell  her  I  ought  to  be  beaten ; 
so  it's  all  right." 

"  It's  all  wrong,"  said  Harry,  magisterially. 
"  You  nearly  killed  him,  and  I  shouldn't  won- 
der if  he  dies." 

"  Will  he  die  ? "  said  Black  Sheep. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Harry,  "  and  then  you'll 
be  hanged." 

"All  right,"  said  Black  Sheep,  possessing 
himself  of  the  table-knife.  "Then  I'll  kill 
you  now.  You  say  things  and  do  things  and 
.  .  „  and  /  don't  know  how  things  happen, 
and  you  never  leave  me  alone — and  I  don't 
care  what  happens  1 " 

He  ran  at  the  boy  with  the  knife,  and 
Harry  fled  up-stairs  to  his  room,  promising 
Black  Sheep  the  finest  thrashing  in  the  world 
when  Aunty  Rosa  returned.  Black  Sheep  sat 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  the  table-knife  in 
his  hand,  and  wept  for  that  he  had  not  killed 
Harry.  The  servant-girl  came  up  from  the 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         57 

kitchen,  took  the  knife  away,  and  consoled 
him.  But  Black  Sheep  was  beyond  consola- 
tion. He  would  be  badly  beaten  by  Aunty- 
Rosa;  then  there  would  be  another  beating 
at  Harry's  hands;  then  Judy  would  not  be 
allowed  to  speak  to  him ;  then  the  tale  would 
be  told  at  school  and  then  .  .  . 

There  was  no  one  to  help  and  no  one 
to  care,  and  the  best  way  out  of  the 
business  was  by  death.  A  knife  would 
hurt,  but  Aunty  Rosa  had  told  him,  a  year 
ago,  that  if  he  sucked  paint  he  would  die. 
He  went  into  the  nursery,  unearthed  the  now 
disused  Noah's  Ark,  and  sucked  the  paint  off 
as  many  animals  as  remained.  It  tasted 
abominable,  but  he  had  licked  Noah's  dove 
clean  by  the  time  Aunty  Rosa  and  Judy  re- 
turned. He  went  up-stairs  and  greeted  them 
with : — "  Please,  Aunty  Rosa,  I  believe  I've 
nearly  killed  a  boy  at  school,  and  I've  tried  to 
kill  Harry,  and  when  you've  done  all  about 
God  and  hell,  will  you  beat  me  and  get  it 
over  ? " 

The  tale  of  the  assault  as  told  by  Harry 
could  only  be  explained  on  the  ground  of  pos- 
session by  the  devil.  Wherefore  Black  Sheep 
was  not  only  most  excellently  beaten,  once 
by  Aunty  Rosa  and  once,  when  thoroughly 
cowed  down,  by  Harry,  but  he  was  further 
prayed  for  at  family  prayers,  together  with 
Jane,  who  had  stolen  a  cold  rissole  from  the 
pantry  and  snuffled  audibly  as  her  enormity 


58  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

was  brought  before  the  Throne  of  Grace, 
Black  Sheep  was  sore  and  stiff  but  triumphant. 
He  would  die  that  very  night  and  be  rid  of 
them  all.  No,  he  would  ask  for  no  forgiveness 
from  Harry,  and  at  bedtime  would  stand  no 
questioning  at  Harry's  hands,  even  though 
addressed  as  "  Young  Cain." 

"  I've  been  beaten,"  said  he,  "  and  I've  done 
other  things.  I  don't  care  what  I  do.  If  you 
speak  to  me  to-night,  Harry,  I'll  get  out  and 
try  to  kill  you.  Now  you  can  kill  me  if  you 
like." 

Harry  took  his  bed  into  the  spare  room, 
and  Black  Sheep  lay  down  to  die. 

It  may  be  that  the  makers  of  Noah's  Arks 
know  that  their  animals  are  likely  to  find  their 
way  into  young  mouths,  and  paint  them  ac- 
cordingly. Certain  it  is  that  the  common, 
weary  next  morning  broke  through  the  win- 
dows and  found  Black  Sheep  quite  well  and  a 
good  deal  ashamed  of  himself,  but  richer  by 
the  knowledge  that  he  could,  in  extremity, 
secure  himself  against  Harry  for  the  future. 

When  he  descended  to  breakfast  on  the 
first  day  of  the  holidays,  he  was  greeted  with 
the  news  that  Harry,  Aunty  Rosa,  and  Judy 
were  going  away  to  Brighton,  while  Black 
Sheep  was  to  stay  in  the  house  with  the  serv- 
ant. His  latest  outbreak  suited  Aunty 
Rosa's  plans  admirably.  It  gave  her  good 
excuse  for  leaving  the  extra  boy  behind.  Papa 
in  Bombay,  who  really  seemed  to  know  a 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        59 

young  sinner's  wants  to  the  hour,  sent,  that 
week,  a  package  of  new  books.  And  with 
these,  and  the  society  of  Jane  on  board- 
wages,  Black  Sheep  was  left  alone  for  a  month. 

The  books  lasted  for  ten  days.  They  were 
eaten  too  quickly,  in  long  gulps  of  four-and- 
tvventy  hours  at  a  time.  Then  came  days  of 
doing  absolutely  nothing,  of  dreaming  dreams 
and  marching  imaginary  armies  up  and  down 
stairs,  of  counting  the  number  of  banisters, 
and  of  measuring  the  length  and  breadth  of 
every  room  in  handspans — fifty  down  the  side, 
thirty  across,  and  fifty  back  again.  Jane  made 
many  friends,  and,  after  receiving  Black  Sheep's 
assurance  that  he  would  not  tell  of  her  ab- 
sences, went  out  daily  for  long  hours.  Black 
Sheep  would  follow  the  rays  of  the  sinking 
sun  from  the  kitchen  to  the  dining-room  and 
thence  upward  to  his  own  bedroom  until  all 
was  gray  dark,  and  he  ran  down  to  the  kitchen 
fire  and  read  by  its  light.  He  was  happy  in 
that  he  was  left  alone  and  could  read  as  much 
as  he  pleased.  But,  later,  he  grew  afraid  of 
the  shadows  of  window-curtains  and  the  flap- 
ping of  doors  and  the  creaking  of  shutters.  He 
went  out  into  the  garden,  and  the  rustling  of 
the  laurel-bushes  frightened  him. 

He  was  glad  when  they  all  returned — Aunty 
Rosa,  Harry,  and  Judy — full  of  news,  and  Judy 
laden  with  gifts.  Who  could  help  loving  loyal 
little  Judy  ?  In  return  for  all  her  merry  bab- 
blement, Black  Sheep  confided  to  her  that  the 


60  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

distance  from  the  hall-door  to  the  top  of  the 
first  landing  was  exactly  one  hundred  and 
eighty-four  handspans.  He  had  found  it  out 
himself. 

Then  the  old  life  recommenced ;  but  with  a 
difference,  and  a  new  sin.  To  his  other 
iniquities  Black  Sheep  had  now  added  a  phe- 
nomenal clumsiness — was  as  unfit  to  trust  in 
action  as  he  was  in  word.  He  himself  could 
not  account  for  spilling  everything  he  touched, 
upsetting  glasses  as  he  put  his  hand  out,  and 
bumping  his  head  against  doors  that  were 
manifestly  shut.  There  was  a  gray  haze  upon 
all  his  world,  and  it  narrowed  month  by  month, 
until  at  last  it  left  Black  Sheep  almost  alone 
with  the  flapping  curtains  that  were  so  like 
ghosts,  and  the  nameless  terrors  of  broad  day- 
light that  were  only  coats  on  pegs  after  all. 

Holidays  came  and  holidays  went,  and  Black 
Sheep  was  taken  to  see  many  people  whose 
faces  were  all  exactly  alike  ;  was  beaten  when 
occasion  demanded,  and  tortured  by  Harry  on 
all  possible  occasions ;  but  defended  by  Judy 
through  good  and  evil  report,  though  she 
hereby  drew  upon  herself  the  wrath  of  Aunty 
Rosa. 

The  weeks  were  interminable  and  Papa  and 
Mama  were  clean  forgotten.  Harry  had  left 
school  and  was  a  clerk  in  a  Banking-Office. 
Freed  from  his  presence,  Black  Sheep  resolved 
that  he  should  no  longer  be  deprived  of  his 
allowance  of  pleasure-reading.  Consequently 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        61 

when  he  failed  at  school  he  reported  that  al? 
was  well,  and  conceived  a  large  contempt  for 
Aunty  Rosa  as  he  saw  how  easy  it  was  to  de- 
ceive her.  "  She  says  I'm  a  little  liar  when  I 
don't  tell  lies,  and  now  I  do,  she  doesn't  know," 
thought  Black  Sheep.  Aunty  Rosa  had  cred- 
ited him  in  the  past  with  petty  cunning  and 
stratagem  that  had  never  entered  into  his  head. 
By  the  light  of  the  sordid  knowledge  that  she 
had  revealed  to  him  he  paid  her  back  full  tale. 
In  a  household  where  the  most  innocent  of  his 
motives,  his  natural  yearning  for  a  little  affec- 
tion, had  been  interpreted  into  a  desire  for 
more  bread  and  jam  or  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  strangers  and  so  put  Harry  into  the  back- 
ground, his  work  was  easy.  Aunty  Rosa  could 
penetrate  certain  kinds  of  hypocrisy,  but  not 
all.  He  set  his  child's  wits  against  hers  and 
was  no  more  beaten.  It  grew  monthly  more 
and  more  of  a  trouble  to  read  the  schoolbooks, 
and  even  the  pages  of  the  open-print  story- 
books  danced  and  were  dim.  So  Black  Sheep 
brooded  in  the  shadows  that  fell  about  him 
and  cut  him  off  from  the  world,  inventing 
horrible  punishments  for  "  dear  Harry,"  or 
plotting  another  line  of  the  tangled  web  of 
deception  that  he  wrapped  round  Aunty  Rosa. 
Then  the  crash  came  and  the  cobwebs  were 
broken.  It  was  impossible  to  foresee  every- 
thing. Aunty  Rosa  made  personal  inquiries 
as  to  Black  Sheep's  progress  and  received  in- 
formation that  startled  her.  Step  by  step, 


62          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

with  a  delight  as  keen  as  when  she  convicted 
an  underfed  housemaid  of  the  theft  of  cold 
meats,  she  followed  the  trail  of  Black  Sheep's 
delinquencies.  For  weeks  and  weeks,  in  order 
to  escape  banishment  from  the  book-shelves, 
he  had  made  a  fool  of  Aunty  Rosa,  of  Harry, 
of  God,  of  all  the  world  1  Horrible,  most 
horrible,  and  evidence  of  an  utterly  depraved 
mind. 

Black  Sheep  counted  the  cost.  "  It  will 
only  be  one  big  beating  and  then  she'll  put  a 
card  with  '  Liar  '  on  my  back,  same  as  she  did 
before.  Harry  will  whack  me  and  pray  for 
me,  and  she  will  pray  for  me  at  prayers  and 
tell  me  I'm  a  Child  of  the  Devil  and  give  me 
hymns  to  learn.  But  I've  done  all  my  reading 
and  she  never  knew.  She'll  say  she  knew  all 
along.  She's  an  old  liar  too,"  said  he. 

For  three  days  Black  Sheep  was  shut  in  his 
own  bedroom — to  prepare  his  heart.  "  That 
means  two  beatings.  One  at  school  and  one 
here.  That  one  will  hurt  most."  And  it  fell 
even  as  he  thought.  He  was  thrashed  at 
school  before  the  Jews  and  the  hubshi,  for  the 
heinous  crime  of  bringing  home  false  reports 
of  progress.  He  was  thrashed  at  home  by 
Aunty  Rosa  on  the  same  count,  and  then  the 
placard  was  produced.  Aunty  Rosa  stitched 
it  between  his  shoulders  and  bade  him  go  for 
a  walk  with  it  upon  him. 

"  If  you  make  me  do  that,"  said  Black  Sheep 
very  quietly,  "  I  shall  burn  this  house  down, 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        63 

and  perhaps  I'll  kill  you.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  kill  you — you're  so  bony — but 
I'll  try." 

No  punishment  followed  this  blasphemy, 
though  Black  Sheep  held  himself  ready  to  work 
his  way  to  Aunty  Rosa's  withered  throat,  and 
grip  there  till  he  was  beaten  off.  Perhaps 
Aunty  Rosa  was  afraid,  for  Black  Sheep,  hav- 
ing reached  the  Nadir  of  Sin,  bore  himself 
with  a  new  recklessness. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  trouble  there  came 
a  visitor  from  over  the  seas  to  Downe  Lodge, 
who  knew  Papa  and  Mama,  and  was  com- 
missioned to  see  Punch  and  Judy.  Black 
Sheep  was  sent  to  the  drawing-room  and 
charged  into  a  solid  tea-table  laden  with 
china. 

"  Gently,  gently,  little  man,"  said  the  visitor, 
turning  Black  Sheep's  face  to  the  light  slowly. 
"  What's  that  big  bird  on  the  palings  ?  " 

"  What  bird  ?  "  asked  Black  Sheep. 

The  visitor  looked  deep  down  into  Black 
Sheep's  eyes  for  half  a  minute,  and  then  said 
suddenly  : — "  Good  God,  the  little  chap's 
nearly  blind  1  " 

It  was  a  most  business-like  visitor.  He 
gave  orders,  on  his  own  responsibility,  that 
Black  Sheep  was  not  to  go  to  school  or  open 
a  book  until  Mama  came  home.  "  She'll  be 
here  in  three  weeks,  as  you  know  of  course," 
said  he,  "  and  I'm  Inverarity  Sahib.  I 
ushered  you  into  this  wicked  world,  young 


64          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

man,  and  a  nice  use  you  seem  to  have  made 
of  your  time.  You  must  do  nothing  whatever. 
Can  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Punch  in  a  dazed  way.  He 
had  known  that  Mama  was  coming.  There 
was  a  chance,  then,  of  another  beating. 
Thank  Heaven,  Papa  wasn't  coming  too. 
Aunty  Rosa  had  said  of  late  that  he  ought  to 
be  beaten  by  a  man. 

For  the  next  three  weeks  Black  Sheep  was 
strictly  allowed  to  do  nothing.  He  spent  his 
time  in  the  old  nursery  looking  at  the  broken 
toys,  for  all  of  which  account  must  be  ren- 
dered to  Mama.  Aunty  Rosa  hit  him  over 
the  hands  if  even  a  wooden  boat  were  broken. 
But  that  sin  was  of  small  importance  com- 
pared to  the  other  revelations,  so  darkly  hinted 
at  by  Aunty  Rosa.  "  When  your  Mother 
comes,  and  hears  what  I  have  to  tell  her,  she 
may  appreciate  you  properly,"  she  said  grimly, 
and  mounted  guard  over  Judy  lest  that  small 
maiden  should  attempt  to  comfort  her  brother, 
to  the  peril  of  her  own  soul. 

And  Mama  came — in  a  four-wheeler  and 
a  flutter  of  tender  excitement.  Such  a  Mama  I 
She  was  young,  frivolously  young,  and  beau- 
tiful, with  delicately  flushed  cheeks,  eyes  that 
shone  like  stars,  and  a  voice  that  needed  no 
additional  appeal  of  outstretched  arms  to 
draw  little  ones  to  her  heart.  Judy  ran 
straight  to  her,  but  Black  Sheep  hesitated. 
Could  this  wonder  be  "  showing  off  "  ?  She 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         65 

would  not  put  out  her  arms  when  she  knev» 
of  his  crimes.  Meantime  was  it  possible  that 
by  fondling  she  wanted  to  get  anything  out  of 
Black  Sheep  ?  Only  all  his  love  and  all  his 
confidence ;  but  that  Black  Sheep  did  not 
know.  Aunty  Rosa  withdrew  and  left  Mama, 
kneeling  between  her  children,  half  laughing, 
half  crying,  in  the  very  hall  where  Punch  and 
Judy  had  wept  five  years  before. 

"  Well,  chicks,  do  you  remember  me  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Judy  frankly,  "  but  I  said  '  God 
bless  Papa  and  Mama,'  ev'vy  night." 

"  A  little,"  said  Black  Sheep.  "  Remem- 
ber I  wrote  to  you  every  week,  anyhow.  That 
isn't  to  show  off,  but  'cause  of  what  comes 
afterwards." 

"  What  comes  after  !  What  should  come 
after,  my  darling  boy  ? "  And  she  drew  him 
to  her  again.  He  came  awkwardly,  with 
many  angles.  "  Not  used  to  petting,"  said 
the  quick  Mother-soul.  "  The  girl  is." 

"  She's  too  little  to  hurt  any  one,"  thought 
Black  Sheep,  "  and  if  I  said  I'd  kill  her,  she'd 
be  afraid.  I  wonder  what  Aunty  Rosa  will 
tell." 

There  was  a  constrained  late  dinner,  at  the 
end  of  which  Mama  picked  up  Judy  and  put 
her  to  bed  with  endearments  manifold.  Faith- 
less little  Judy  had  shown  her  defection  from 
Aunty  Rosa  already.  And  that  lady  resented 
it  bitterly.  Black  Sheep  rose  to  leave  the 
room. 


66          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  Come  and  say  good  night,"  said  Aunty 
Rosa,  offering  a  withered  cheek. 

"  Huh  I  "  said  Black  Sheep.  "  I  never  kiss 
you,  and  I'm  not  going  to  show  off.  Tell 
that  woman  what  I've  done,  and  see  what  she 
says." 

Black  Sheep  climbed  into  bed  feeling  that 
he  had  lost  Heaven  after  a  glimpse  through 
the  gates.  In  half  an  hour  "  that  woman  " 
was  bending  over  him.  Black  Sheep  flung 
up  his  right  arm.  It  wasn't  fair  to  come  and 
hit  him  in  the  dark.  Even  Aunty  Rosa  never 
tried  that.  But  no  blow  followed. 

"Are  you  showing  off?  I  won't  tell  you 
anything  more  than  Aunty  Rosa  has,  and  she 
doesn't  know  everything,"  said  Black  Sheep 
as  clearly  as  he  could  for  the  arms  round  his 
neck. 

"  Oh,  my  son — my  little,  little  son  I  It  was 
my  fault — my  fault,  darling — and  yet  how 
could  we  help  it  ?  Forgive  me,  Punch."  The 
voice  died  out  in  a  broken  whisper,  and  two 
hot  tears  fell  on  Black  Sheep's  forehead. 

"  Has  she  been  making  you  cry  too  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  You  should  see  Jane  cry.  But 
you're  nice,  and  Jane  is  a  Born  Liar — Aunty 
Rosa  says  so." 

"  Hush,  Punch,  hush !  My  boy,  don't  talk 
like  that.  Try  to  love  me  a  little  bit — a  little 
bit.  You  don't  know  how  I  want  it.  Punch- 
baba,  come  back  to  me  1  I  am  your  Mother 
— your  own  Mother — and  never  mind  the 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep         67 

rest.  I  know — yes,  I  know,  dear.  It  doesn't 
matter  now.  Punch,  won't  you  care  for  me  a 
little  ? " 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  petting  a  big 
boy  of  ten  can  endure  when  he  is  quite  sure 
that  there  is  no  one  to  laugh  at  him.  Black 
Sheep  had  never  been  made  much  of  before, 
and  here  was  this  beautiful  woman  treating 
him — Black  Sheep,  the  Child  of  the  Devil  and 
the  Inheritor  of  Undying  Flame — as  though 
he  were  a  small  God. 

"  I  care  for  you  a  great  deal,  Mother  dear," 
he  whispered  at  last,  "  and  I'm  glad  you've 
come  back ;  but  are  you  sure  Aunty  Rosa  told 
you  everything  ?  " 

"Everything.  What  does  it  matter?  But 
— "  the  voice  broke  with  a  sob  that  was  also 
laughter —  "  Punch,  my  poor,  dear,  half-blind 
darling,  don't  you  think  it  was  a  little  foolish 
of  you  ? " 

"  No.     It  saved  a  lickin'." 

Mama  shuddered  and  slipped  away  in  the 
darkness  to  write  a  long  letter  to  Papa.  Here 
is  an  extract : — 


.  .  .  Judy  is  a  dear,  plump  little  prig  who  adores  the 
woman,  and  wears  with  as  much  gravity  as  her  relig- 
ious opinions — only  eight,  Jack  ! — a  venerable  horse- 
hair atrocity  which  she  calls  her  Bustle  1  I  have  just 
burnt  it,  and  the  child  is  asleep  in  my  bed  as  I  write. 
She  will  come  to  me  at  once.  Punch  I  cannot  quite 
understand.  He  is  well  nourished,  but  seems  to  have 
been  worried  into  a  system  of  small  deceptions  which 
the  woman  magnifies  into  deadly  sins.  Don't  you 


68  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

recollect  our  own  up-bringing,  dear,  when  the  Fear  of 
the  Lord  was  so  often  the  beginning  of  falsehood  ?  I 
shall  win  Pus.ch  to  me  before  long.  I  am  taking  the 
children  away  into  the  country  to  get  them  to  know  me, 
and,  on  the  whole,  I  am  content,  or  shall  be  when  you 
come  home,  dear  boy,  and  then,  thank  God,  we  shall 
be  all  under  one  roof  again  at  last  1 

Three  months  later,  Punch,  no  longer  Black 
Sheep,  has  discovered  that  he  is  the  veritable 
owner  of  a  real,  live,  lovely  Mama,  who  is 
also  a  sister,  comforter,  and  friend,  and  that 
he  must  protect  her  till  the  Father  comes 
home.  Deception  does  not  suit  the  part  of 
a  protector,  and,  when  one  can  do  anything 
without  question,  where  is  the  use  of  decep- 
tion? 

"Mother  would  be  awfully  cross  if  you 
walked  through  that  ditch,"  says  Judy,  con- 
tinuing a  conversation. 

"  Mother's  never  angry,"  says  Punch. 
"  She'd  just  say,  '  You're  a  little  pagal;  '  and 
that's  not  nice,  but  I'll  show." 

Punch  walks  through  the  ditch  and  mires 
himself  to  the  knees.  "  Mother,  dear,"  he 
shouts,  "  I'm  just  as  dirty  as  I  can  pos-j#-ly 
be!" 

"  Then  change  your  clothes  as  quickly  as 
you  pos-j/My  can  !  "  rings  out  Mother's  clear 
voice  from  the  house.  "  And  don't  be  a  little 
fagall" 

"  There  !  Told  you  so,"  says  Punch.  "  It's 
all  different  now,  and  we  are  just  as  much 
Mother's  as  if  she  had  never  gone. ' 


Baa  Baa,  Black  Sheep        69 

Not  altogether,  O  Punch,  for  when  young 
lips  have  drunk  deep  of  the  bitter  waters  of 
Hate,  Suspicion,  and  Despair,  all  the  Love  in 
the  world  will  not  wholly  take  away  that 
knowledge  ;  though  it  may  turn  darkened  eyes 
for  a  while  to  the  light,  and  teach  Faith  where 
no  Faith  was. 


HIS  MAJESTY  THE  KING. 


"  WHERE  the  word  of  a  King  is,  there  is  power : 
And  who  may  say  unto  him — What  doest  thou  ?  " 

"  YETH  !  And  Chimo  to  sleep  at  ve  foot 
of  ve  bed,  and  ve  pink  pikky-book,  and  ve 
bwead — 'cause  I  will  be  hungwy  in  ve  night 
— and  vat's  all,  Miss  Biddums.  And  now 
give  me  one  kiss  and  I'll  go  to  sleep. — So  1 
Kite  quiet.  Ow  1  Ve  pink  pikky-book  has 
slidded  under  ve  pillow  and  ve  bwead  is 
cwumbling  1  Miss  Biddums  1  Miss  Bid- 
dums  1  I'm  so  uncomfy !  Come  and  tuck 
me  up,  Miss  Biddums." 

His  Majesty  the  King  was  going  to  bed  ; 
and  poor,  patient  Miss  Biddums,  who  had 
advertised  herself  humbly  as  a  "  young  per- 
son, European,  accustomed  to  the  care  of  little 
children,"  was  forced  to  wait  upon  his  royal 
caprices.  The  going  to  bed  was  always  a 
lengthy  process,  because  His  Majesty  had  a 
convenient  knack  of  forgetting  which  of  his 
many  friends,  from  the  mehter's  son  to  the 
Commissioner's  daughter,  he  had  prayed  for, 
and,  lest  the  Deity  should  take  offense,  was 
used  to  toil  through  his  little  prayers,  in  all 
70 


His  Majesty  the  King          71 

reverence,  five  times  in  one  evening.  His 
Majesty  the  King  believed  in  the  efficacy  of 
prayer  as  devoutly  as  he  believed  in  Chimo 
the  patient  spaniel,  or  Miss  Biddums,  who 
could  reach  him  down  his  gun — "  with  cur- 
suffun  caps — reel  ones  " — from  the  upper 
shelves  of  the  big  nursery  cupboard. 

At  the  door  of  the  nursery  his  authority 
stopped.  Beyond  lay  the  empire  of  his  father 
and  mother — two  very  terrible  people  who 
had  no  time  to  waste  upon  His  Majesty  the 
King.  His  voice  was  lowered  when  he  passed 
the  frontier  of  his  own  dominions,  his  actions 
were  fettered,  and  his  soul  was  filled  with  awe 
because  of  the  grim  man  who  lived  among  a 
wilderness  of  pigeon-holes  and  the  most  fas- 
cinating pieces  of  red  tape,  and  the  wonder* 
ful  woman  who  was  always  getting  into  or 
stepping  out  of  the  big  carriage. 

To  the  one  belonged  the  mysteries  of  the 
"  du/tar-room  " ;  to  the  other  the  great,  re- 
flected wilderness  of  the  "  Memsahib's  room  " 
where  the  shiny,  scented  dresses  hung  on 
pegs,  miles  and  miles  up  in  the  air,  and  the 
just-seen  plateau  of  the  toilet-table  revealed 
an  acreage  of  speckly  combs,  broidered  "  hanar 
fitch-bags,"  and  "  white-headed  "  brushes. 

There  was  no  room  for  His  Majesty  the 
King  either  in  official  reserve  or  mundane 
gorgeousness.  He  had  discovered  that,  ages 
and  ages  ago — before  even  Chimo  came  to 
the  house,  or  Miss  Biddums  had  ceased  griz» 


72  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

zling  over  a  packet  of  greasy  letters  whlcft 
appeared  to  be  her  chief  treasure  on  earth. 
His  Majesty  the  King,  therefore,  wisely  con- 
fined himself  to  his  own  territories,  where 
only  Miss  Biddums,  and  she  feebly,  disputed 
his  sway. 

From  Miss  Biddums  he  had  picked  up  his 
simple  theology  and  welded  it  to  the  legends 
of  gods  and  devils  that  he  had  learned  in  the 
servants'  quarters. 

To  Miss  Biddums  he  confided  with  equal 
trust  his  tattered  garments  and  his  more  se- 
rious griefs.  She  would  make  everything 
whole.  She  knew  exactly  how  the  Earth  had 
been  born,  and  had  reassured  the  trembling 
soul  of  His  Majesty  the  King  that  terrible 
time  in  July  when  it  rained  continuously  for 
seven  days  and  seven  nights,  and — there  was 
no  Ark  ready  and  all  the  ravens  had  flown 
away  1  She  was  the  most  powerful  person 
with  whom  he  was  brought  into  contact — al- 
ways excepting  the  two  remote  and  silent 
people  beyond  the  nursery  door. 

How  was  His  Majesty  the  King  to  know 
that,  six  years  ago,  in  the  summer  of  his  birth, 
Mrs.  Austell,  turning  over  her  husband's 
papers,  had  come  upon  the  intemperate  letter 
of  a  foolish  woman  who  had  been  carried 
away  by  the  silent  man's  strength  and  personal 
beauty  ?  How  could  he  tell  what  evil  the 
overlooked  slip  of  note-paper  had  Avrought  in 
the  mind  of  a  desperately  jealous  wife  ? 


His  Majesty  the  King          73 

could  he,  despite  his  wisdom,  guess  that  his 
mother  had  chosen  to  make  of  it  excuse  for  a 
bar  and  a  division  between  herself  and  her 
husband,  that  strengthened  and  grew  harder 
to  break  with  each  year ;  that  she,  having  un- 
earthed this  skeleton  in  the  cupboard,  had 
trained  it  into  a  household  God  which  should 
be  about  their  path  and  about  their  bed,  and 
poison  all  their  ways  ? 

These  things  were  beyond  the  province  of 
His  Majesty  the  King.  He  only  knew  that 
his  father  was  daily  absorbed  in  some  mys- 
terious work  for  a  thing  called  the  Sirkar  and 
that  his  mother  was  the  victim  alternately  of 
the  Nautch  and  the  Burrakhana.  To  these 
entertainments  she  was  escorted  by  a  Captain- 
Man  for  whom  His  Majesty  the  King  had  no 
regard. 

"  He  doesn't  laugh,"  he  argued  with  Miss 
Biddums,  who  would  fain  have  taught  him 
charity.  "  He  only  makes  faces  wiv  his 
mouf,  and  when  he  wants  to  o-muse  me  I  am 
not  o-mused."  And  His  Majesty  the  Kinjf 
shook  his  head  as  one  who  knew  the  deceit- 
fulness  of  the  world. 

Morning  and  evening  it  was  his  duty  to 
salute  his  father  and  mother — the  former  with 
a  grave  shake  of  the  hand  and  the  latter  with 
an  equally  grave  kiss.  Once,  indeed,  he  had 
put  his  arms  round  his  mother's  neck,  in  the 
fashion  he  used  towards  Miss  Biddums. 
The  openwork  of  his  sleeve-edge  caught  in 


74  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

an  earring,  and  the  last  stage  of  His  Majesty's 
little  overture  was  a  suppressed  scream  and 
summary  dismissal  to  the  nursery. 

"  It  is  w'ong,"  thought  His  Majesty  the 
King,  "  to  hug  Memsahibs  wiv  fings  in  veir 
ears.  I  will  amember."  He  never  repeated 
the  experiment. 

Miss  Biddums,  it  must  be  confessed,  spoilt 
him  as  much  as  his  nature  admitted,  in  some 
sort  of  recompense  for  what  she  called  "  the 
hard  ways  of  his  Papa  and  Mama."  She, 
like  her  charge,  knew  nothing  of  the  trou- 
ble between  man  and  wife — the  savage  con- 
tempt for  a  woman's  stupidity  on  the  one 
side,  or  the  dull,  rankling  anger  on  the  other. 
Miss  Biddums  had  looked  after  many  little 
children  in  her  time,  and  served  in  many 
establishments.  Being  a  discreet  woman, 
she  observed  little  and  said  less,  and,  when 
her  pupils  went  over  the  sea  to  the  Great 
Unknown  which  she,  with  touching  confi- 
dence in  her  hearers,  called  "  Home,"  packed 
up  her  slender  belongings  and  sought  for 
employment  afresh,  lavishing  all  her  love  on 
each  successive  batch  of  ingrates.  Only  His 
Majesty  the  King  had  repaid  her  affection 
with  interest;  and  in  his  uncomprehending 
ears  she  had  told  the  tale  of  nearly  all  her 
hopes,  her  aspirations,  the  hopes  that  were 
dead,  and  the  dazzling  glories  of  her  ances- 
tral home  in  "  CWcutta.  close  to  Wellington 
Square." 


His  Majesty  the  King          75 

Everything  above  the  average  was  in  the 
eyes  of  His  Majesty  the  King  "  Calcutta 
good."  When  Miss  Biddums  had  crossed 
his  royal  will,  he  reversed  the  epithet  to  vex 
that  estimable  lady,  and  all  things  evil  were, 
until  the  tears  of  repentance  swept  away 
spite,  "  Calcutta  bad." 

Now  and  again  Miss  Biddums  begged  for 
him  the  rare  pleasure  of  a  day  in  the  society 
of  the  Commissioner's  child — the  wilful  four- 
year-old  Patsie,  who,  to  the  intense  amaze- 
ment of  His  Majesty  the  King,  was  idolized 
by  her  parents.  On  thinking  the  question 
out  at  length,  by  roads  unknown  to  those 
who  have  left  childhood  behind,  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  Patsie  was  petted 
because  she  wore  a  big  blue  sash  and  yellow 
hair. 

This  precious  discovery  he  kept  to  himself. 
The  yellow  hair  was  absolutely  beyond  his 
power,  his  own  tousled  wig  being  potato- 
brown  ;  but  something  might  be  done  towards 
the  blue  sash.  He  tied  a  large  knot  in  his 
mosquito-curtains  in  order  to  remember  to 
consult  Patsie  on  their  next  meeting.  She 
was  the  only  child  he  had  ever  spoken  to,  and 
almost  the  only  one  that  he  had  ever  seen. 
The  little  memory  and  the  very  large  and 
ragged  knot  held  good. 

"  Patsie,  lend  me  your  blue  wiband,"  said 
His  Majesty  the  King. 

"You'll  bewy  it,"  said  Patsie    doubtfully, 


76  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

mindful  of  certain  fearful  atrocities  committed 
on  her  doll. 

"  No,  I  won't — twoofanhonor.  It's  for  me 
to  wear." 

"  Pooh  1 "  said  Patsie.  "  Boys  don't  wear 
sa-ashes.  Zey's  only  for  dirls." 

"  I  didn't  know."  The  face  of  His  Majesty 
the  King  fell. 

"  Who  wants  ribands  ?  Are  you  playing 
horses,  chickabiddies  ? "  said  the  Commis- 
sioner's wife,  stepping  into  the  veranda. 

"  Toby  wanted  my  sash,"  explained  Patsie, 

"  I  don't  now,"  said  His  Majesty  the  King 
hastily,  feeling  that  with  one  of  these  terrible 
"  grown-ups  "  his  poor  little  secret  would  be 
shamelessly  wrenched  from  him,  and  perhaps 
— most  burning  desecration  of  all — laughed 
at. 

"I'll  give  you  a  cracker-cap,"  said  the 
Commissioner's  wife.  "  Come  along  with  me, 
Toby,  and  we'll  choose  it." 

The  cracker-cap  was  a  stiff,  three-pointed 
vermilion-and-tinsel  splendor.  His  Majesty 
the  King  fitted  it  on  his  royal  brow.  The 
Commissioner's  wife  had  a  face  that  children 
instinctively  trusted,  and  her  action,  as  she 
adjusted  the  toppling  middle  spike,  was 
tender. 

"  Will  it  do  as  well  ?  "  stammered  His 
Majesty  the  King. 

"  As  what,  little  one  ?  " 

"  As  ve  wiban  ?  " 


His  Majesty  the  King          77 

"Oh,  quite.  Go  and  look  at  yourself  in 
the  glass." 

The  words  were  spoken  in  all  sincerity  and 
to  help  forward  any  absurd  "  dressing-up " 
amusement  that  the  children  might  take  into 
their  minds.  But  the  young  savage  has  a 
keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  His  Majesty 
the  King  swung  the  great  cheval-glass  down, 
and  saw  his  head  crowned  with  the  staring 
horror  of  a  fool's  cap — a  thing  which  his 
father  would  rend  to  pieces  if  it  ever  came 
into  his  office.  He  plucked  it  off,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Toby,"  said  the  Commissioner's  wife 
gravely,  "  you  shouldn't  give  way  to  temper. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  see  it.  It's  wrong." 

His  Majesty  the  King  sobbed  inconsolably, 
and  the  heart  of  Patsie's  mother  was  touched. 
She  drew  the  child  on  to  her  knee.  Clearly 
it  was  not  temper  alone. 

"  What  is  it,  Toby  ?  Won't  you  tell  me  ? 
Aren't  you  well  ?  " 

The  torrent  of  sobs  and  speech  met,  and 
fought  for  a  time,  with  chokings  and  gulp- 
ings  and  gasps.  Then,  in  a  sudden  rush, 
His  Majesty  the  King  was  delivered  of  a 
few  inarticulate  sounds,  followed  by  the 
words: — "Go  a — way  you  —  dirty  —  little 
debbil  I  " 

"  Toby  I     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  It's  what  he'd  say.  I  know  it  is  1  He 
said  vat  when  vere  was  only  a  little,  little 


78  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

eggy  mess,  on  my  t-t-unic;  and  he'd  say  it 
again,  and  laugh,  if  I  went  in  wif  vat  on  my 
head." 

"  Who  would  say  that  ?  " 

"  M-m-my  Papa  1  And  I  fought  if  I  had  ve 
blue  wiban,  he'd  let  me  play  in  ve  waste-paper 
basket  under  ve  table." 

"  What  blue  riband,  childie  ?  " 

"  Ve  same  vat  Patsie  had — ve  big  blue 
wiban  w-w-wound  my  t-t-tummy  1 " 

"  What  is  it,  Toby  ?  There's  something  on 
your  mind.  Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  perhaps 
I  can  help." 

"  Isn't  anyfing,"  sniffed  His  Majesty,  mind- 
ful of  his  manhood,  and  raising  his  head  from 
the  motherly  bosom  upon  which  it  was  rest- 
ing. "  I  only  fought  vat  you — you  petted 
Patsie  'cause  she  had  ve  blue  wiban  and — and  if 
I'd  had  ve  blue  wiban  too,  m-my  Papaw-would 
pet  me." 

The  secret  was  out,  and  His  Majesty  the 
King  sobbed  bitterly  in  spite  of  the  arms 
round  him,  and  the  murmur  of  comfort  on  his 
heated  little  forehead. 

Enter  Patsie  tumultuously,  embarrassed  by 
several  lengths  of  the  Commissioner's  pet 
ma/iseer-rod.  "  Turn  along,  Toby  1  Zere's  a 
chu-chu  lizard  in  ze  chick,  and  I've  told  Chimo 
to  watch  him  till  we  turn.  If  we  poke  him 
wiz  zis  his  tail  will  go  wiggle-wiggle  and  fall 
off.  Turn  along  1  I  can't  weach." 

"  I'm  comin',"  said  His  Majesty  the  King, 


His  Majesty  the  King          79 

climbing  down  from  the  Commissioner's  wife's 
knee  after  a  hasty  kiss. 

Two  minutes  later,  the  chu-chu  lizard's  tail 
was  wriggling  on  the  matting  of  the  veranda, 
and  the  children  were  gravely  poking  it  with 
splinters  from  the  chick,  to  urge  its  exhausted 
vitality  into  "  just  one  wiggle  more,  'cause  it 
doesn't  hurt  chu-chu." 

The  Commissioner's  wife  stood  in  the  door- 
way and  watched  : — "  Poor  little  mite  !  A 
blue  sash  .  .  .  and  my  own  precious  Patsie  1 
I  wonder  if  the  best  of  us,  or  we  who  love 
them  best,  ever  understand  what  goes  on  in 
their  topsy-turvy  little  heads." 

A  big  tear  splashed  on  the  Commissioner's 
•wife's  wedding-ring,  and  she  went  indoors  to 
devise  a  tea  for  the  benefit  of  His  Majesty 
the  King. 

"  Their  souls  aren't  in  their  tummies  at 
that  age  in  this  climate,"  said  the  Commis- 
sioner's wife,  "  but  they  are  not  far  off.  I 
wonder  if  I  could  make  Mrs.  Austell  under- 
stand. Poor  little  fellow  I  " 

With  simple  craft,  the  Commissioner's  wife 
called  on  Mrs.  Austell  and  spoke  long  and 
lovingly  about  children  ;  inquiring  specially 
for  His  Majesty  the  King. 

"  He's  with  his  governess,"  said  Mrs.  Aus- 
tell, and  the  tone  intimated  that  she  was  not 
interested. 

The  Commissioner's  wife,  unskilled  in  the 
art  of  war,  continued  her  questionings.  "  I 


8o  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Austell.  "  These 
things  are  left  to  Miss  Biddums,  and,  of  course, 
she  does  not  ill-treat  the  child." 

The  Commissioner's  wife  left  hastily. 
The  last  sentence  jarred  upon  her  nerves. 
"  Doesn't  ill-treat  the  child  !  As  if  that  were 
all !  I  wonder  what  Tom  would  say  if  I  only 
<  didn't  ill-treat '  Patsie  1 " 

Thenceforward,  His  Majesty  the  King  was 
an  honored  guest  at  the  Commissioner's  house, 
and  the  chosen  friend  of  Patsie,  with  whom  he 
blundered  into  as  many  scrapes  as  the  com- 
pound and  the  servants'  quarters  afforded. 
Patsie's  Mama  was  always  ready  to  give 
counsel,  help,  and  sympathy,  and,  if  need  were 
and  callers  few,  to  enter  into  their  games  with 
an  abandon  that  would  have  shocked  the  sleek- 
haired  subalterns  who  squirmed  painfully  in 
their  chairs  when  they  came  to  call  on  her 
whom  they  profanely  nicknamed  "  Mother 
Bunch." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  Patsie  and  Patsie's  Mama, 
and  the  love  that  these  two  lavished  upon  him, 
His  Majesty  the  King  fell  grievously  from 
grace,  and  committed  no  less  a  sin  than  that 
of  theft — unknown,  it  is  true,  but  burdensome. 

There  came  a  man  to  the  door  one  day, 
when  His  Majesty  was  playing  in  the  hall  and 
the  bearer  had  gone  to  dinner,  with  a  packet 
for  his  Majesty's  Mama.  And  he  put  it  upon 
the  hall-table,  said  that  there  was  no  answer, 
and  departed. 


His  Majesty  the  King          81 

Presently,  the  pattern  of  the  dado  ceased  to 
interest  His  Majesty,  while  the  packet,  a  white, 
neatly  wrapped  one  of  fascinating  shape,  in- 
terested him  very  much  indeed.  His  Mama 
was  out,  so  was  Miss  Biddums,  and  there  was 
pink  string  round  the  packet.  He  greatly  de- 
sired pink  string.  It  would  help  him  in  many 
of  his  little  businesses — the  haulage  across 
the  floor  of  his  small  cane-chair,  the  torturing 
of  Chimo,  who  could  never  understand  harness 
— and  so  forth.  If  he  took  the  string  it  would 
be  his  own,  and  nobody  would  be  any  the 
wiser.  He  certainly  could  not  pluck  up  suffi- 
cient courage  to  ask  Mama  for  it.  Wherefore, 
mounting  upon  a  chair,  he  carefully  untied  the 
string  and,  behold,  the  stiff  white  paper  spread 
out  in  four  directions,  and  revealed  a  beautiful 
little  leather  box  with  gold  lines  upon  it  1  He 
tried  to  replace  the  string,  but  that  was  a 
failure.  So  he  opened  the  box  to  get  full 
satisfaction  for  his  iniquity,  and  saw  a  most 
beautiful  Star  that  shone  and  winked,  and  was 
altogether  lovely  and  desirable. 

"  Vat,"  said  His  Majesty  meditatively,  "is  a 
'parkle  cwown,  like  what  I  will  wear  when  I 
go  to  heaven.  I  will  wear  it  on  my  head — 
Miss  Biddums  says  so.  I  would  like  to  wear 
it  now.  I  would  like  to  play  wiv  it.  I  will 
take  it  away  and  play  wiv  it,  very  careful, 
until  Mama  asks  for  it.  I  fink  it  was  bought 
for  me  to  play  wiv — same  as  my  cart." 

His  Majesty  the  King  was  arguing  against 
6 


82  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

his  conscience,  and  he  knew  it,  for  he  thought 
immediately  after :  "  Never  mind.  I  will  keep 
it  to  play  wiv  until  Mama  says  where  is  it,  and 
then  I  will  say  : — '  I  tookt  it  and  I  am  sorry.' 
I  will  not  hurt  it  because  it  is  a  'parkle  cwown. 
But  Miss  Biddums  will  tell  me  to  put  it  back. 
I  will  not  show  it  to  Miss  Biddums." 

If  Mama  had  come  in  at  that  moment 
all  would  have  gone  well.  She  did  not,  and 
His  Majesty  the  King  stuffed  paper,  case,  and 
$ewel  into  the  breast  of  his  blouse  and  marched 
to  the  nursery. 

"  When  Mama  asks  I  will  tell,"  was  the 
salve  that  he  laid  upon  his  conscience.  But 
Mama  never  asked,  and  for  three  whole 
days  His  Majesty  the  King  gloated  over  his 
treasure.  It  was  of  no  earthly  use  to  him,  but 
it  was  splendid,  and,  for  aught  he  knew,  some- 
thing dropped  from  the  heavens  themselves. 
Still  Mama  made  no  inquiries,  and  it  seemed 
to  him,  in  his  furtive  peeps,  as  though  the 
shiny  stones  grew  dim.  What  was  the  use  of 
a  'parkle  cwown  if  it  made  a  little  boy  feel  all 
bad  in  his  inside  ?  He  had  the  pink  string 
as  well  as  the  other  treasure,  but  greatly  he 
wished  that  he  had  not  gone  beyond  the  string. 
It  was  his  first  experience  of  iniquity,  and  it 
pained  him  after  the  flush  of  possession  and 
secret  delight  in  the  "  'parkle  cwown "  had 
died  away. 

Each  day  that  he  delayed  rendered  confes- 
sion to  the  people  beyond  the  nursery  doors 


His  Majesty  the  King          83 

more  impossible.  Now  and  again  he  deter- 
mined to  put  himself  in  the  path  of  the  beau- 
tifully attired  lady  as  she  was  going  out,  and 
explain  that  he  and  no  one  else  was  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  "  'parkle  cwown,"  most  beautiful 
and  quite  uninquired  for.  But  she  passed 
hurriedly  to  her  carriage,  and  the  opportunity 
was  gone  before  His  Majesty  the  King  could 
draw  the  deep  breath  which  clinches  noble 
resolve.  The  dread  secret  cut  him  off  from 
Miss  Biddums,  Patsie,  and  the  Commissioner's 
wife,  and — doubly  hard  fate — when  he  brood- 
ed over  it  Patsie  said,  and  told  her  mother, 
that  he  was  cross. 

The  days  were  very  long  to  His  Majesty 
the  King,  and  the  nights  longer  still.  Miss 
Biddums  had  informed  him,  more  than  once, 
what  was  the  ultimate  destiny  of  "  fieves," 
and  when  he  passed  the  interminable  mud 
flanks  of  the  Central  Jail,  he  shook  in  his  little 
strapped  shoes. 

But  release  came  after  an  afternoon  spent 
in  playing  boats  by  the  edge  of  the  tank  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden.  His  Majesty  the 
King  went  to  tea,  and,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  memory,  the  meal  revolted  him.  His 
nose  was  very  cold,  and  his  cheeks  were 
burning  hot.  There  was  a  weight  about  his 
feet,  and  he  pressed  his  head  several  times 
to  make  sure  that  it  was  not  swelling  as  he 
sat. 

"  I  feel  vevy  funny,"  said  His  Majesty  the 


84          Wee  Willie  Winkie 

King,  rubbing  his  nose.  "  Vere's  a  buzz-buzz 
in  my  head." 

He  went  to  bed  quietly.  Miss  Biddums 
was  out  and  the  bearer  undressed  him. 

The  sin  of  the  "  'parkle  cwown  "  was  for- 
gotten in  the  acuteness  of  the  discomfort  to 
which  he  roused  after  a  leaden  sleep  of  some 
hours.  He  was  thirsty,  and  the  bearer  had 
forgotten  to  leave  the  drinking-water.  "  Miss 
Biddums!  Miss  Biddums!  I'm  so  kirsty! " 

No  answer.  Miss  Biddums  had  leave  to 
attend  the  wedding  of  a  Calcutta  schoolmate. 
His  Majesty  the  King  had  forgotten  that. 

"  I  want  a  dwink  of  water  1 "  he  cried,  but 
his  voice  was  dried  up  in  his  throat.  "  I  want 
a  dwink !  Vere  is  ve  glass  ? " 

He  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  round.  There 
was  a  murmur  of  voices  from  the  other  side 
of  the  nursery  door.  It  was  better  to  face  the 
terrible  unknown  than  to  choke  in  the  dark. 
He  slipped  out  of  bed,  but  his  feet  were 
strangely  wilful,  and  he  reeled  once  or  twice. 
Then  he  pushed  the  door  open  and  staggered 
— a  puffed  and  purple-faced  little  figure — into 
the  brilliant  light  of  the  dining-room  full  of 
pretty  ladies. 

"  I'm  vevy  hot !  I'm  vevy  uncomfitivle," 
moaned  His  Majesty  the  King,  clinging  to 
the  portiere,  "  and  vere's  no  water  in  ve  glass, 
and  I'm  so  kirsty.  Give  me  a  dwink  of  water." 

An  apparition  in  black  and  white — His 
Majesty  the  King  could  hardly  see  distinctly 


His  Majesty  the  King          85 

— lifted  him  up  to  the  level  of  the  table,  and 
felt  his  wrists  and  forehead.  The  water  came, 
and  he  drank  deeply,  his  teeth  chattering 
against  the  edge  of  the  tumbler.  Then  every 
one  seemed  to  go  away — every  one  except  the 
huge  man  in  black  and  white,  who  carried  him 
back  to  his  bed  ;  the  mother  and  father  follow- 
ing. And  the  sin  of  the  "  'parkle  cwown  " 
rushed  back  and  took  possession  of  the  ter- 
rified soul. 

"  I'm  a  fief  !  "  he  gasped.  "  I  want  to  tell 
Miss  Biddums  vat  I'm  a  fief.  Vere  is  Miss 
Biddums  ?  " 

Miss  Biddums  had  come  and  was  bending 
over  him.  "  I'm  a  fief,"  he  whispered.  "A 
fief — like  ve  men  in  the  pwison.  But  I'll  tell 
now.  I  tookt  ...  I  tookt  ve  'parkle  cwown 
when  the  man  that  came  left  it  in  ve  hall.  I 
bwoke  ve  paper  and  ve  little  bwown  box,  and 
it  looked  shiny,  and  I  tookt  it  to  play  wif, 
and  I  was  afwaid.  It's  in  ve  dooly-box  at  ve 
bottom.  No  one  never  asked  for  it,  but  I  was 
afwaid.  Oh,  go  an'  get  ve  dooly-box !  " 

Miss  Biddums  obediently  stooped  to  the 
lowest  shelf  of  the  almirah  and  unearthed  the 
big  paper  box  in  which  His  Majesty  the  King 
kept  his  dearest  possessions.  Under  the  tin 
soldiers,  and  a  layer  of  mud  pellets  for  a  pellet- 
bow,  winked  and  blazed  a  diamond  star, 
wrapped  roughly  in  a  half-sheet  of  note-paper 
whereon  were  a  few  words. 

Somebody  was  crying  at  the  head  of  the 


86  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

bed,  and  a  man's  hand  touched  the  forehead 
of  His  Majesty  the  King,  who  grasped  the 
packet  and  spread  it  on  the  bed. 

"Vat  is  ve  'parkle  cvvown,"  he  said  and 
wept  bitterly ;  for  now  that  he  had  made  res- 
titution he  would  fain  have  kept  the  shining 
splendor  with  him. 

"  It  concerns  you  too,"  said  a  voice  at  the 
head  of  the  bed.  "  Read  the  note.  This  is 
not  the  time  to  keep  back  anything." 

The  note  was  curt,  very  much  to  the  point, 
and  signed  by  a  single  initial.  "  Jf  you  wear 
this  to-morrow  night  I  shall  know  what  to  ex- 
pect." The  date  was  three  weeks  old. 

A  whisper  followed,  and  the  deeper  voice 
returned : — "  And  you  drifted  as  far  apart  as 
that !  I  think  it  makes  us  quits  now,  doesn't 
it  ?  Oh,  can't  we  drop  this  folly  once  and  for 
all  ?  Is  it  worth  it,  darling  ? " 

"  Kiss  me  too,"  said  His  Majesty  the  King, 
dreamily.  "  You  isn't  vevy  angwy,  is  you  ?  " 

The  fever  burned  itself  out,  and  His  Maj- 
esty the  King  slept. 

When  he  waked,  it  was  in  a  new  world — 
peopled  by  his  father  and  mother  as  well  as 
Miss  Biddums :  and  there  was  much  love  in 
that  world  and  no  morsel  of  fear,  and  more 
petting  than  was  good  for  several  little  boys. 
His  Majesty  the  King  was  too  young  to 
moralize  on  the  uncertainty  of  things  hu- 
man, or  he  would  have  been  impressed  with 
the  singular  advantages  of  crime  — aye,  black 


His  Majesty  the  King          87 

sin.  Behold,  he  had  stolen  the  "  'parkle 
cwown,"  and  his  reward  was  Love,  and  the 
right  to  play  in  the  waste-paper  basket  under 
the  table  "  for  always." 


He  trotted  over  to  spend  an  afternoon  with 
Patsie,  and  the  Commissioner's  wife  would 
have  kissed  him.  "  No,  not  vere,"  said  His 
Majesty  the  King,  with  superb  insolence, 
fencing  one  corner  of  his  mouth  with  his 
hand.  "  Vat's  my  Mama's  place — vere  she 
kisses  me." 

"  Oh  1 "  said  the  Commissioner's  wife 
briefly.  Then  to  herself : — "  Well,  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  be  glad  for  his  sake.  Children  are 
selfish  little  grubs  and — I've  got  my  Patsie." 


THE  DRUMS  OF  THE  FORE 
AND  AFT. 


"  AND  a  little  child  shall  lead  them." 

IN  the  Army  List  they  still  stand  as  "  The 
Fore  and  Fit  Princess  Hohenzollern-Sigma- 
ringen-Auspach's  Merther-Tydfilshire  Own 
Royal  Loyal  Light  Infantry,  Regimental  Dis- 
trict 329A,"  but  the  Army  through  all  its  bar- 
racks and  canteens  knows  them  now  as  the 
"  Fore  and  Aft."  They  may  in  time  do 
something  that  shall  make  their  new  title 
honorable,  but  at  present  they  are  bitterly 
ashamed,  and  the  man  who  calls  them  "  Fore 
and  Aft"  does  so  at  the  risk  of  the  head 
which  is  on  his  shoulders. 

Two  words  breathed  into  the  stables  of  a 
certain  Cavalry  Regiment  will  bring  the  men 
out  into  the  streets  with  belts  and  mops  and 
bad  language ;  but  a  whisper  of  "  Fore  and 
Aft  "  will  bring  out  this  regiment  with  rifles. 

Their  one  excuse  is  that  they  came  again 
and  did  their  best  to  finish  the  job  in  style. 
But  for  a  time  all  their  world  knows  that 
they  were  openly  beaten,  whipped,  dumb- 
cowed,  shaking  and  afraid.  The  men  know 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  89 

it ;  their  officers  know  it ;  the  Horse  Guards 
know  it ;  and  when  the  next  war  comes  the 
enemy  will  know  it  also.  There  are  two  or 
three  regiments  of  the  Line  that  have  a  black 
mark  against  their  names  which  they  will 
then  wipe  out,  and  it  will  be  excessively  in- 
convenient for  the  troops  upon  whom  they 
do  their  wiping. 

The  courage  of  the  British  soldier  is  offi- 
cially supposed  to  be  above  proof,  and,  as  a 
general  rule,  it  is  so.  The  exceptions  are 
decently  shoveled  out  of  sight,  only  to  be 
referred  to  in  the  freshet  of  unguarded  talk 
that  occasionally  swamps  a  Mess-table  at  mid- 
night. Then  one  hears  strange  and  horrible 
stories  of  men  not  following  their  officers,  of 
orders  being  given  by  those  who  had  no  right 
to  give  them,  and  of  disgrace  that,  but  for  the 
standing  luck  of  the  British  Army,  might 
have  ended  in  brilliant  disaster.  These  are 
unpleasant  stories  to  listen  to,  and  the  Messes 
tell  them  under  their  breath,  sitting  by  the 
big  wood  fires,  and  the  young  officer  bows  his 
head  and  thinks  to  himself,  please  God,  his 
men  shall  never  behave  unhandily. 

The  British  soldier  is  not  altogether  to  be 
blamed  for  occasional  lapses  ;  but  this  ver- 
dict he  should  not  know.  A  moderately  in- 
telligent General  will  waste  six  months  in 
mastering  the  craft  of  the  particular  war  that 
he  may  be  waging;  a  Colonel  may  utterly 
misunderstand  the  capacity  of  his  regiment 


9o  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

for  three  months  after  it  has  taken  the  field  ; 
and  even  a  Company  Commander  may  err 
and  be  deceived  as  to  the  temper  and  tem- 
perament of  his  own  handful :  wherefore  the 
soldier,  and  the  soldier  of  to-day,  more  par- 
ticularly, should  not  be  blamed  for  falling 
back.  He  should  be  shot  or  hanged  after- 
wards— -pour  encourager  les  autres ;  but  he 
should  not  be  vilified  in  newspapers,  for  that 
is  want  of  tact  and  waste  of  space. 

He  has,  let  us  say,  been  in  the  service  of 
the  Empress  for,  perhaps,  four  years.  He 
will  leave  in  another  two  years.  He  has  no 
inherited  morals,  and  four  years  are  not  suffi- 
cient to  drive  toughness  into  his  fiber,  or  to 
teach  him  how  holy  a  thing  is  his  Regiment. 
He  wants  to  drink,  he  wants  to  enjoy  himself 
— in  India  he  wants  to  save  money — and  he 
does  not  in  the  least  like  getting  hurt.  He 
has  received  just  sufficient  education  to  make 
him  understand  half  the  purport  of  the  orders 
he  receives,  and  to  speculate  on  the  nature  of 
clean,  incised,  and  shattering  wounds.  Thus, 
if  he  is  told  to  deploy  under  fire  preparatory 
to  an  attack,  he  knows  that  he  runs  a  very 
great  risk  of  being  killed  while  he  is  deploy- 
ing, and  suspects  that  he  is  being  thrown 
away  to  gain  ten  minutes'  time.  He  may 
either  deploy  with  desperate  swiftness,  or  he 
may  shuffle,  or  bunch,  or  break,  according  to 
the  discipline  under  which  he  has  lain  for 
four  years. 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft     91 

Armed  with  imperfect  knowledge,  cursed 
with  the  rudiments  of  an  imagination,  ham- 
pered by  the  intense  selfishness  of  the  lower 
classes,  and  unsupported  by  any  regimental 
associations,  this  young  man  is  suddenly  in- 
troduced to  an  enemy  who  in  eastern  lands 
is  always  ugly,  generally  tall  and  hairy,  and 
frequently  noisy.  If  he  looks  to  the  right  and 
the  left  and  sees  old  soldiers — men  of  twelve 
years'  service,  who,  he  knows,  know  what 
they  are  about — taking  a  charge,  rush,  or 
demonstration  without  embarrassment,  he  is 
consoled  and  applies  his  shoulder  to  the  butt 
of  his  rifle  with  a  stout  heart.  His  peace  is 
the  greater  if  he  hears  a  senior,  who  has 
taught  him  his  soldiering  and  broken  his  head 
on  occasion,  whispering  : — "  They'll  shout  and 
carry  on  like  this  for  five  minutes.  Then 
they'll  rush  in,  and  then  we've  got  'em  by  the 
short  hairs ! " 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  sees  only  men 
of  his  own  term  of  service,  turning  white  and 
playing  with  their  triggers  and  saying: — 
"What  the  Hell's  up  now?  "  while  the  Com- 
pany Commanders  are  sweating  into  their 
sword-hilts  and  shouting  : — "  Front-rank,  fix 
bayonets.  Steady  there — steady  !  Sight  for 
three  hundred — no,  for  five  1  Lie  down,  all  I 
Steady  1  Front-rank,  kneel  1  "  and  so  forth, 
he  becomes  unhappy  ;  and  grows  acutely  mis- 
erable when  he  hears  a  comrade  turn  over 
with  the  rattle  of  fire-irons  falling  into  the 


92  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

fender,  and  the  grunt  of  a  pole-axed  ox.  If 
he  can  be  moved  about  a  little  and  allowed  to 
watch  the  effect  of  his  own  fire  on  the  enemy 
he  feels  merrier,  and  may  be  then  worked  up 
to  the  blind  passion  of  fighting,  which  is,  con- 
trary to  general  belief,  controlled  by  a  chilly 
Devil  and  shakes  men  like  ague.  If  he  is  not 
moved  about,  and  begins  to  feel  cold  at  the 
pit  of  the  stomach,  and  in  that  crisis  is  badly 
mauled  and  hears  orders  that  were  never 
given,  he  will  break,  and  he  will  break  badly  ; 
and  of  all  things  under  the  sight  of  the  Sun 
there  is  nothing  more  terrible  than  a  broken 
British  regiment.  When  the  worst  comes  to 
the  worst  and  the  panic  is  really  epidemic, 
the  men  must  be  e'en  let  go,  and  the  Com- 
pany Commanders  had  better  escape  to  the 
enemy  and  stay  there  for  safety's  sake.  If 
they  can  be  made  to  come  again  they  are  not 
pleasant  men  to  meet,  because  they  will  not 
break  twice. 

About  thirty  years  from  this  date,  when  we 
have  succeeded  in  half-educating  everything 
that  wears  trousers,  our  Army  will  be  a  beau- 
tifully unreliable  machine.  It  will  know  too 
much  and  it  will  do  too  little.  Later  still, 
when  all  men  are  at  the  mental  level  of  the 
officer  of  to-day  it  will  sweep  the  earth. 
Speaking  roughly,  you  must  employ  either 
blackguards  or  gentlemen,  or,  best  of  all, 
blackguards  commanded  by  gentlemen,  to  do 
Butcher's  work  with  efficiency  and  despatch. 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft     93 

The  ideal  soldier  should,  of  course,  think  for 
himself — the  Pocket-book  says  so.  Unfortu- 
nately, to  attain  this  virtue,  he  has  to  pass 
through  the  phase  of  thinking  of  himself,  and 
that  is  misdirected  genius.  A  blackguard  may 
be  slow  to  think  for  himself,  but  he  is  genuinely 
anxious  to  kill,  and  a  little  punishment  teaches 
him  how  to  guard  his  own  skin  and  perforate 
another's.  A  powerfully  prayerful  Highland 
Regiment,  officered  by  rank  Presbyterians,  is, 
perhaps,  one  degree  more  terrible  in  action 
than  a  hard-bitten  thousand  of  irresponsible 
Irish  ruffians  led  by  most  improper  young 
unbelievers.  But  these  things  prove  the  rule 
— which  is  that  the  midway  men  are  not  to 
be  trusted  alone.  They  have  ideas  about  the 
value  of  life  and  an  up-bringing  that  has  not 
taught  them  to  go  on  and  take  the  chances. 
They  are  carefully  unprovided  with  a  backing 
of  comrades  who  have  been  shot  over,  and 
until  that  backing  is  re-introduced,  as  a  great 
many  Regimental  Commanders  intend  it  shall 
be,  they  are  more  liable  to  disgrace  themselves 
than  the  size  of  the  Empire  or  the  dignity  of 
the  Army  allows.  Their  officers  are  as  good 
as  good  can  be,  because  their  training  begins 
early,  and  God  has  arranged  that  a  clean-run 
youth  of  the  British  middle  classes  shall,  in 
the  matter  of  backbone,  brains,  and  bowels, 
surpass  all  other  youths.  For  this  reason  a 
child  of  eighteen  will  stand  up,  doing  noth- 
ing, with  a  tin  sword  in  his  hand  and  joy  in 


94  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

his  heart  until  he  is  dropped.  If  he  dies,  he 
dies  like  a  gentleman.  If  he  lives,  he  writes 
Home  that  he  has  been  "  potted,"  '•  sniped," 
"  chipped  "  or  "  cut  over,"  and  sits  down  to 
besiege  Government  for  a  wound-gratuity  un- 
til the  next  little  war  breaks  out,  when  he  per- 
jures himself  before  a  Medical  Board,  blar- 
neys his  Colonel,  burns  incense  round  his 
Adjutant,  and  is  allowed  to  go  to  the  Front 
once  more. 

Which  homily  brings  me  directly  to  a  brace 
of  the  most  finished  little  fiends  that  ever 
banged  drum  or  tooted  fife  in  the  Band  of  a 
British  Regiment.  They  ended  their  sinful 
career  by  open  and  flagrant  mutiny  and  were 
shot  for  it.  Their  names  were  Jakin  and  Lew 
— Piggy  Lew — and  they  were  bold,  bad  drum- 
mer-boys, both  of  them  frequently  birched  by 
the  Drum-Major  of  the  Fore  and  Aft. 

Jakin  was  a  stunted  child  of  fourteen,  and 
Lew  was  about  the  same  age.  When  not 
looked  after,  they  smoked  and  drank.  They 
swore  habitually  after  the  manner  of  the  Bar- 
rack-room, which  is  cold-swearing  and  comes 
from  between  clinched  teeth ;  and  they  fought 
religiously  once  a  week.  Jakin  had  sprung 
from  some  London  gutter  and  may  or  may  not 
have  passed  through  Dr.  Barnado's  hands  ere 
he  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  drummer-boy. 
Lew  could  remember  nothing  except  the  Regi- 
ment and  the  delight  of  listening  to  the  Band 
from  his  earliest  years.  He  hid  somewhere 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft     95 

in  his  grimy  little  soul  a  genuine  love  for 
music,  and  was  most  mistakenly  furnished  with 
the  head  of  a  cherub  ;  insomuch  that  beauti- 
ful ladies  who  watched  the  Regiment  in 
church  were  wont  to  speak  of  him  as  a 
"darling."  They  never  heard  his  vitriolic 
comments  on  their  manners  and  morals,  as  he 
walked  back  to  barracks  with  the  Band  and 
matured  fresh  causes  of  offense  against 
Jakin. 

The  other  drummer-boys  hated  both  lads  on 
account  of  their  illogical  conduct.  Jakin  might 
be  pounding  Lew,  or  Lew  might  be  rubbing 
Jakin's  head  in  the  dirt,  but  any  attempt  at 
aggression  on  the  part  of  an  outsider  was  met 
by  the  combined  forces  of  Lew  and  Jakin ; 
and  the  consequences  were  painful.  The  boys 
were  the  Ishmaels  of  the  corps,  but  wealthy 
Ishmaels,  for  they  sold  battles  in  alternate 
weeks  for  the  sport  of  the  barracks  when  they 
were  not  pitted  against  other  boys ;  and  thus 
amassed  money. 

On  this  particular  day  there  was  dissension 
in  the  camp.  They  had  just  been  convicted 
afresh  of  smoking,  which  is  bad  for  little  boys 
who  use  plug-tobacco,  and  Lew's  contention 
was  that  Jakin  had  "  stunk  so  'orrid  bad  from 
keepin'  the  pipe  in  pocket,"  that  he  and  he 
alone  was  responsible  for  the  birching  they 
were  both  tingling  under. 

"  I  tell  you  I  'id  the  pipe  back  o'  barracks," 
said  Jakin  pacifically. 


96  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  You're  a  bloomin'  liar,"  said  Lew  without 
heat. 

"  You're  a  bloomin'  little  barstard,"  said 
Jakin,  strong  in  the  knowledge  that  his  own 
ancestry  was  unknown. 

Now  there  is  one  word  in  the  extended 
vocabulary  of  barrack-room  abuse  that  cannot 
pass  without  comment.  You  may  call  a  man 
a  thief  and  risk  nothing.  You  may  even  call 
him  a  coward  without  finding  more  than  a 
boot  whiz  past  your  ear,  but  you  must  not  call 
a  man  a  bastard  unless  you  are  prepared  to 
prove  it  on  his  front  teeth. 

"  You  might  ha'  kep'  that  till  I  wasn't  so 
sore,"  said  Lew  sorrowfully,  dodging  around 
Jakin's  guard. 

"  I'll  make  you  sorer,"  said  Jakin  genially, 
and  got  home  on  Lew's  alabaster  forehead. 
All  would  have  gone  well  and  this  story,  as 
the  books  say,  would  never  have  been  written, 
had  not  his  evil  fate  prompted  the  Bazar- 
Sergeant's  son,  a  long,  employless  man  of  five 
and  twenty,  to  put  in  an  appearance  after 
the  first  round.  He  was  eternally  in  need 
of  money,  and  knew  that  the  boys  had 
silver. 

"  Fighting  again,"  said  he.  "  I'll  report 
you  to  my  father,  and  he'll  report  you  to  the 
C  olor-S  ergean  t. ' ' 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?  "  said  Jakin  with  an 
unpleasant  dilation  of  the  nostrils. 

"  Oh  1    nothing    to   me.      You'll    get    into 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft     97 

trouble,  and  you've  been  up  too  often  to 
afford  that." 

"  What  the  Hell  do  you  know  about  what 
we've  done  ?  "  asked  Lew  the  Seraph.  "  You 
aren't  in  the  Army,  you  lousy,  cadging  civil- 
ian." 

He  closed  in  on  the  man's  left  flank. 

"  Jes'  'cause  you  find  two  gentlemen  settlin* 
their  diff'rences  with  their  fistes  you  stick  in 
your  ugly  nose  where  you  aren't  wanted. 
Run  'ome  to  your  'arf-caste  slut  of  a  Ma — or 
we'll  give  you  what-for,"  said  Jakin. 

The  man  attempted  reprisals  by  knocking 
the  boys'  heads  together.  The  scheme  would 
have  succeeded  had  not  Jakin  punched  him 
vehemently  in  the  stomach,  or  had  Lew  re- 
frained from  kicking  his  shins.  They  fought 
together,  bleeding  and  breathless,  for  half  an 
hour,  and,  after  heavy  punishment,  trium- 
phantly pulled  down  their  opponent  as  terriers 
pull  down  a  jackal. 

"  Now,"  gasped  Jakin,  "  I'll  give  you  what 
for."  He  proceeded  to  pound  the  man's  fea- 
tures while  Lew  stamped  on  the  outlying  por- 
tions of  his  anatomy.  Chivalry  is  not  a  strong 
point  in  the  composition  of  the  average  drum- 
mer-boy. He  fights,  as  do  his  betters,  to 
make  his  mark. 

Ghastly  was   the  ruin   that   escaped,    and 

awful  was   the  wrath  of  the  Bazar-Sergeant. 

Awful   too    was    the  scene    in  Orderly-room 

when  the    two   reprobates   appeared    to    an- 

7 


98  Wee  Willie  Winkie 

swer  the  charge  of  half-murdering  a  "  civil- 
Ian."  The  Bazar-Sergeant  thirsted  for  a 
criminal  action,  and  his  son  lied.  The  boys 
stood  to  attention  while  the  black  clouds  of 
evidence  accumulated. 

"You  little  devils  are  more  trouble  than 
the  rest  of  the  Regiment  put  together,"  said 
the  Colonel  angrily.  "  One  might  as  well  ad- 
monish thistledown,  and  I  can't  well  put  you 
in  cells  or  under  stoppages.  You  must  be 
flogged  again." 

"  Beg  y'  pardon,  Sir.  Can't  we  say  nothin* 
in  our  own  defense,  Sir  ? "  shrilled  Jakin. 

"  Hey  1  What  ?  Are  you  going  to  argue 
with  me  ?  "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  Lew.  "  But  if  a  man  come 
to  you,  Sir,  and  said  he  was  going  to  report  you, 
Sir,  for  'aving  a  bit  of  a  turn-up  with  a  friend, 
Sir,  an'  wanted  to  get  money  out  o'you,  Sir — " 

The  Orderly-room  exploded  in  a  roar  of 
laughter.  "  Well  ?  "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  That  was  what  that  measly  jam-war 
there  did,  Sir,  and,  'e'd  'a'  done  it,  Sir,  if  we 
'adn't  prevented  'im.  We  didn't  'it  'im  much, 
Sir.  'E  'adn't  no  manner  o*  right  to  interfere 
with  us,  Sir.  I  don't  mind  bein'  flogged  by 
the  Drum-Major,  Sir,  nor  yet  reported  by  any 
Corp'ral,  but  I'm — but  I  don't  think  it's  fair, 
Sir,  for  a  civilian  to  come  an'  talk  over  a  man 
in  the  Army." 

A  second  shout  of  laughter  shook  the 
Orderly-room,  but  the  Colonel  was  grave. 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft     99 

"  What  sort  of  characters  have  these  boys  ? " 
he  asked  of  the  Regimental  Sergeant-Major. 

"Accordin'  to  the  Bandmaster,  Sir,"  re- 
turned that  revered  official — the  only  soul  in 
the  Regiment  whom  the  boys  feared — "  they 
do  everything  but  lie,  Sir." 

"  Is  it  like  we'd  go  for  that  man  for  fun, 
Sir  ? "  said  Lew,  pointing  to  the  plaintiff. 

"  Oh,  admonished, — admonished  !  "  said 
the  Colonel  testily,  and  when  the  boys  had 
gone  he  read  the  Bazar- Sergeant's  son  a  lec- 
ture on  the  sin  of  unprofitable  meddling,  and 
gave  orders  that  the  Bandmaster  should  keep 
the  Drums  in  better  discipline. 

"  If  either  of  you  come  to  practise  again 
with  so  much  as  a  scratch  on  your  two  ugly 
little  faces,"  thundered  the  Bandmaster,  "  I'll 
tell  the  Drum-Major  to  take  the  skin  off  your 
backs.  Understand  that,  you  young  devils." 

Then  he  repented  of  his  speech  for  just  the 
length  of  time  that  Lew,  looking  like  a  Seraph 
in  red  worsted  embellishments,  took  the  place 
of  one  of  the  trumpets — in  hospital — and 
rendered  the  echo  of  a  battle-piece.  Lew 
certainly  was  a  musician,  and  had  often  in  his 
more  exalted  moments  expressed  a  yearning 
to  master  every  instrument  of  the  Band. 

"  There's  nothing  to  prevent  your  becoming 
a  Bandmaster,  Lew,"  said  the  Bandmaster, 
who  had  composed  waltzes  of  his  own,  and 
worked  day  and  night  in  the  interests  of  the 
Band. 


ioo         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  What  did  he  say  ? "  demanded  Jakin  after 
practise. 

"  'Said  I  might  be  a  bloomin'  Bandmaster, 
an'  be  asked  in  to  'ave  a  glass  o'  sherry- wine 
on  Mess-nights." 

"  Ho !  'Said  you  might  be  a  bloomin'  non- 
combatant,  did  'e  1  That's  just  about  wot  'e 
would  say.  When  I've  put  in  my  boy's  service 
— it's  a  bloomin'  shame  that  doesn't  count  for 
pension — I'll  take  on  a  privit.  Then  I'll  be  a 
Lance  in  a  year — knowin'  what  I  know  about 
the  ins  an'  outs  o'  things.  In  three  years  I'll 
be  a  bloomin'  Sergeant.  I  won't  marry  then, 
not  I !  I'll  'old  on  and  learn  the  orf 'cers'  ways 
an'  apply  for  exchange  into  a  reg'ment  that 
doesn't  know  all  about  me.  Then  I'll  be  a 
bloomin'  orf'cer.  Then  I'll  ask  you  to  'ave  a 
glass  o'  sherry-wine,  Mister  Lew,  an'  you'll 
bloomin'  well  'ave  to  stay  in  the  hanty-room 
while  the  Mess-Sergeant  brings  it  to  your  dirty 
'ands." 

"  S'pose  7'm  going  to  be  a  Bandmaster  ? 
Not  I,  quite.  I'll  be  a  orf'cer  too.  There's 
nothin'  like  taking  to  a  thing  an'  stickin*  to  it, 
the  Schoolmaster  says.  The  reg'ment  don't 
go  'ome  for  another  seven  years.  I'll  be  a 
Lance  then  or  near  to." 

Thus  the  boys  discussed  their  futures,  and 
conducted  themselves  with  exemplary  piety 
for  a  week.  That  is  to  say,  Lew  started  a 
flirtation  with  the  Color-Sergeant's  daughter, 
aged  thirteen — "  not,"  as  he  explained  to  Jakin, 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  101 

"  with  any  intention  o'  matrimony,  but  by  way 
o'  keepin'  my  'and  in."  And  the  black-haired 
Cris  Delighan  enjoyed  that  flirtation  more  than 
previous  ones,  and  the  other  drummer-boys 
raged  furiously  together,  and  Jakin  preached 
sermons  on  the  dangers  of  "  bein'  tangled 
along  o'  petticoats." 

But  neither  love  nor  virtue  would  have  held 
Lew  long  in  the  paths  of  propriety  had  not  the 
rumor  gone  abroad  that  the  Regiment  was  to 
be  sent  on  active  service,  to  take  part  in  a  war 
which,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  we  will  call 
"  The  War  of  the  Lost  Tribes." 

The  barracks  had  the  rumor  almost  before 
the  Mess-room,  and  of  all  the  nine  hundred 
men  in  barracks  not  ten  had  seen  a  shot  fired 
in  anger.  The  Colonel  had,  twenty  years  ago, 
assisted  at  a  Frontier  expedition  ;  one  of  the 
Majors  had  seen  service  at  the  Cape  ;  a  con- 
firmed deserter  in  E  Company  had  helped  to 
clear  streets  in  Ireland  ;  but  that  was  all.  The 
Regiment  had  been  put  by  for  many  years. 
The  overwhelming  mass  of  its  rank  and  file 
had  from  three  to  four  years'  service  ;  the  non- 
commissioned officers  were  under  thirty  years 
old;  and  men  and  sergeants  alike  had  for- 
gotten to  speak  of  the  stories  written  in  brief 
upon  the  Colors — the  New  Colors  that  had 
been  formally  blessed  by  an  Archbishop  in 
England  ere  the  Regiment  came  away. 

They  wanted  to  go  to  the  Front — they  were 
enthusiastically  anxious  to  go — but  they  had 


IO2         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

no  knowledge  of  what  war  meant,  and  there 
was  none  to  tell  them.  They  were  an  educated 
regiment,  the  percentage  of  school-certificates 
in  their  ranks  was  high,  and  most  of  the  men 
could  do  more  than  read  and  write.  They 
had  been  recruited  in  loyal  observance  of  the 
territorial  idea;  but  they  themselves  had  no 
notion  of  that  idea.  They  were  made  up  of 
drafts  from  an  overpopulated  manufacturing 
district.  The  system  had  put  flesh  and  muscle 
upon  their  small  bones,  but  it  could  not  put 
heart  into  the  sons  of  those  who  for  genera- 
tions had  done  overmuch  work  for  overscanty 
pay,  had  sweated  in  drying-rooms,  stooped 
over  looms,  coughed  among  white  lead  and 
shivered  on  lime-barges.  The  men  had  found 
food  and  rest  in  the  Army,  and  now  they  were 
going  to  fight  "  niggers  " — people  who  ran 
away  if  you  shook  a  stick  at  them.  Where- 
fore they  cheered  lustily  when  the  rumor  ran, 
and  the  shrewd,  clerkly  non-commissioned 
officers  speculated  on  the  chances  of  batta  and 
of  saving  their  pay.  At  Headquarters,  men 
said : — "  The  Fore  and  Fit  have  never  been 
under  fire  within  the  last  generation.  Let  us, 
therefore,  break  them  in  easily  by  setting  them 
to  guard  lines  of  communication."  And  this 
would  have  been  done  but  for  the  fact  that 
British  Regiments  were  wanted — badly  wanted 
— at  the  Front,  and  there  were  doubtful  Native 
Regiments  that  could  fill  the  minor  duties. 
"Brigade  'em  with  two  strong  Regiments," 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    103 

said  Headquarters.  "  They  may  be  knocked 
about  a  bit,  but  they'll  learn  their  business 
before  they  come  through.  Nothing  like  a 
night-alarm  and  a  little  cutting-up  of  stragglers 
to  make  a  Regiment  smart  in  the  field.  Wait 
till  they've  had  half  a  dozen  sentries'  throats 
cut." 

The  Colonel  wrote  with  delight  that  the 
temper  of  his  men  was  excellent,  that  the  Reg- 
iment was  all  that  could  be  wished  and  as 
sound  as  a  bell.  The  Majors  smiled  with  a 
sober  joy,  and  the  subalterns  waltzed  in  pairs 
down  the  Mess-room  after  dinner  and  nearly 
shot  themselves  at  revolver-practise.  But 
there  was  consternation  in  the  hearts  of  Jakin 
and  Lew.  What  was  to  be  done  with  the 
drums  ?  Would  the  Band  go  to  the  Front  ? 
How  many  of  the  drums  would  accompany  the 
Regiment  ? 

They  took  council  together,  sitting  in  a  tree 
and  smoking. 

"  It's  more  than  a  bloomin'  toss-up  they'll 
leave  us  be'ind  at  the  Depot  with  the  womem 
You'll  like  that,"  said  Jakin  sarcastically. 

"  'Cause  o'  Cris,  y'  mean  ?  Wot's  a  woman, 
or  a  'ole  bloomin1  depot  o'  women,  'longside 
o'  the  chanst  of  field-service  ?  You  know  I'm 
as  keen  on  goin'  as  you,"  said  Lew. 

"  'Wish  I  was  a  bloomin'  bugler,"  said  Jakin 
sadly.  "  They'll  take  Tom  Kidd  along,  that 
I  can  plaster  a  wall  with,  an'  like  as  not  they 
won't  take  us." 


104         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"Then  let's  go  an'  make  Tom  Kidd  so 
bloomin'  sick  'e  can't  bugle  no  more.  You 
'old  'is  'ands  an'  I'll  kick  him,"  said  Lew,  wrig- 
gling on  the  branch. 

"  That  ain't  no  good  neither.  We  ain't  the 
sort  o'  characters  to  presoom  on  our  rep'tations 
— they're  bad.  If  they  have  the  Band  at  the 
Depot  we  don't  go,  and  no  error  there.  If 
they  take  the  Band  we  may  get  cast  for  med- 
ical unfitness.  Are  you  medical  fit,  Piggy  ?  " 
said  Jakin,  digging  Lew  in  the  ribs  with  force. 

"  Yus,"  said  Lew  with  an  oath.  "  The 
Doctor  says  your  'cart's  weak  through  smokin' 
on  an  empty  stummick.  Throw  a  chest  an* 
I'll  try  yer." 

Jakin  threw  out  his  chest,  which  Lew  smote 
with  all  his  might.  Jakin  turned  very  pale, 
gasped,  crowed,  screwed  up  his  eyes,  and  said, 
— "  That's  all  right." 

"  You'll  do,"  said  Lew.  "  I've  'eard  o'  men 
dyin'  when  you  'it  'em  fair  on  the  breastbone." 

"  'Don't  bring  us  no  nearer  goin',  though," 
said  Jakin.  "  Do  you  know  where  we're 
ordered  ? " 

"  Gawd  knows,  an'  'e  won't  split  on  a  pal. 
Somewheres  up  to  the  Front  to  kill  Paythans 
— hairy  big  beggars  that  turn  you  inside  out 
if  they  get  'old  o'  you.  They  say  their  women 
are  good-looking,  too." 

"  Any  loot  ?  "  asked  the  abandoned  Jakin. 

"  Not  a  bloomin'  anna,  they  say,  unless  you 
dig  up  the  ground  an'  see  what  the  niggers 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    105 

'ave  'id.  They're  a  poor  lot."  Jakin  stood, 
upright  on  the  branch  and  gazed  across  the 
plain. 

"Lew,"  said  he,  "there's  the  Colonel 
coming.  'Colonel's  a  good  old  beggar.  Let's 
go  an'  talk  to  'im." 

Lew  nearly  fell  out  of  the  tree  at  the  audac- 
ity of  the  suggestion.  Like  Jakin  he  feared 
not  God,  neither  regarded  he  Man,  but  there 
are  limits  even  to  the  audacity  of  drummer- 
boy,  and  to  speak  to  a  Colonel  was  .  .  . 

But  Jakin  had  slid  down  the  trunk  and 
doubled  in  the  direction  of  the  Colonel.  That 
officer  was  walking  wrapped  in  thought  and 
visions  of  a  C.  B. — yes,  even  a  K.  C.  B.,  for 
had  he  not  at  command  one  of  the  best  Reg- 
iments of  the  Line — the  Fore  and  Fit  ?  And 
he  was  aware  of  two  small  boys  charging 
down  upon  him.  Once  before  it  had  been 
solemnly  reported  to  him  that  "  the  Drums 
were  in  a  state  of  mutiny  "  ;  Jakin  and  Lew 
being  the  ringleaders.  This  looked  like  an 
organized  conspiracy. 

The  boys  halted  at  twenty  yards,  walked 
to  the  regulation  four  paces,  and  saluted 
together,  each  as  well  set-up  as  a  ramrod  and 
little  taller. 

The  Colonel  was  in  a  genial  mood  ;  the 
boys  appeared  very  forlorn  and  unprotected 
on  the  desolate  plain,  and  one  of  them  was 
handsome. 

"  Well  1  "    said    the     Colonel,    recognizing 


io6         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

them.  "  Are  you  going  to  pull  me  down  in 
the  open  ?  I'm  sure  I  never  interfere  with 
you>  even  though — "  he  sniffed  suspiciously 
— "  you  have  been  smoking." 

It  was  time  to  strike  while  the  iron  was  hot. 
Their  hearts  beat  tumultuously. 

"  Beg  y'  pardon,  Sir,"  began  Jakin.  "  The 
Reg'ment's  ordered  on  active  service,  Sir  ? " 

"  So  I  believe,"  said  the  Colonel  cour- 
teously. 

"  Is  the  Band  goin',  Sir  ? "  said  both  to- 
gether.  Then,  without  pause,  "  We're  goin', 
Sir,  ain't  we  ?  " 

"  You  1 "  said  the  Colonel,  stepping  back 
the  more  fully  to  take  in  the  two  small  fig- 
ures. "  You!  You'd  die  in  the  first  march.' 

"  No,  we  wouldn't,  Sir.  We  can  march 
with  the  Regiment  anywheres — p'rade  an' 
anywhere  else,"  said  Jakin. 

"  If  Tom  Kidd  goes  'e'll  shut  up  like  a 
clasp-knife,"  said  Lew.  "  Tom  'as  very  close 
veins  in  both  'is  legs,  sir." 

"  Very  how  much  ? " 

"Very  close  veins,  Sir.  That's  why  they 
swells  after  long  p'rade,  Sir.  If  'e  can  go, 
we  can  go,  Sir." 

Again  the  Colonel  looked  at  them  long 
and  intently. 

"Yes,  the  Band  is  going,"  he  said  as 
gravely  as  though  he  had  been  addressing  a 
brother  officer.  "  Have  you  any  parents, 
either  of  you  two  ? " 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    107 

"  No,  Sir,"  rejoicingly  from  Lew  and  Jakin. 
"We're  both  orphans,  Sir.  There's  no  one 
to  be  considered  of  on  our  account,  Sir." 

"  You  poor  little  sprats,  and  you  want  to 
go  up  to  the  Front  with  the  Regiment,  do 
you  ?  Why  ?  " 

"  I've  wore  the  Queen's  Uniform  for  two 
years,"  said  Jakin.  "  It's  very  'ard,  Sir,  that 
a  man  don't  get  no  recompense  for  doin'  'is 
dooty,  Sir." 

"  An' — an'  if  I  don't  go,  Sir,"  interrupted 
Lew,  "  the  Bandmaster  'e  says  'e'll  catch  an* 
make  a  bloo — a  blessed  musician  o'  me,  Sir. 
Before  I've  seen  any  service,  Sir." 

The  Colonel  made  no  answer  for  a  long 
time.  Then  he  said  quietly : — "  If  you're 
passed  by  the  Doctor  I  dare  say  you  can  go. 
I  shouldn't  smoke  if  I  were  you." 

The  boys  saluted  and  disappeared.  The 
Colonel  walked  home  and  told  the  story  to 
his  wife,  who  nearly  cried  over  it.  The  Colo- 
nel was  well  pleased.  If  that  was  the  tem- 
per of  the  children,  what  would  not  the  men 
do? 

Jakin  and  Lew  entered  the  boys'  barrack- 
room  with  great  stateliness,  and  refused  to 
hold  any  conversation  with  their  comrades 
for  at  least  ten  minutes.  Then,  bursting 
with  pride,  Jakin  drawled  : — "  I've  bin  inter- 
vooin*  the  Colonel.  Good  old  beggar  is  the 
Colonel.  Says  I  to  'im,  '  Colonel/  says  I, 
'  let  me  go  to  the  Front,  along  o'  the  Reg'- 


io8         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

ment.'  '  To  the  Front  you  shall  go,'  says  'e, 
4  an'  I  only  wish  there  was  more  like  you 
among  the  dirty  little  devils  that  bang  the 
bloomin'  drums.'  Kidd,  if  you  throw  your 
'coutrements  at  me  for  tellin*  you  the  truth 
to  your  own  advantage,  your  legs'll  swell." 

None  the  less  there  was  a  Battle-Royal  in 
the  barrack-room,  for  the  boys  were  consumed 
with  envy  and  hate,  and  neither  Jakin  nor 
Lew  behaved  in  conciliatory  wise. 

"  I'm  goin'  out  to  say  adoo  to  my  girl," 
said  Lew,  to  cap  the  climax.  "  Don't  none  o' 
you  touch  my  kit  because  it's  wanted  for 
active  service,  me  bein'  specially  invited  to 
go  by  the  Colonel." 

He  strolled  forth  and  whistled  in  the  clump 
of  trees  at  the  back  of  the  Married  Quarters 
till  Cris  came  to  him,  and,  the  preliminary 
kisses  being  given  and  taken,  Lew  began  to 
explain  the  situation. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  the  Front  with  the  Reg'- 
ment,"  he  said,  valiantly. 

"  Piggy  >  you're  a  little  liar,"  said  Cris,  but 
her  heart  misgave  her,  for  Lew  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  lying. 

"  Liar  yourself,  Cris,"  said  Lew,  slipping  an 
arm  round  her.  "I'm  goin'.  When  the 
Reg'ment  marches  out  you'll  see  me  with  'em, 
all  galliant  and  gay.  Give  us  another  kiss, 
Cris,  on  the  strength  of  it." 

"  If  you'd  on'y  a-stayed  at  the  Depot — where 
you  ought  to  ha'  bin — you  could  get  as  many 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    109 

of  'em  as — as  you  dam  please,"  whimpered 
Cris,  putting  up  her  mouth. 

"  It's  'ard,  Cris.  I  grant  you  it's  'ard.  But 
what's  a  man  to  do?  If  I'd  a-stayed  at  the 
Depot,  you  wouldn't  think  anything  of  me." 

"  Like  as  not,  but  I'd  'ave  you  with  me, 
Piggy-  A11'  a^  the  thinkin'  in  the  world  isn't 
like  kissift'." 

"  An'  all  the  kissin'  in  the  world  isn't  like 
'avin'  a  medal  to  wear  on  the  front  o'  your 
coat" 

"  You  won't  get  no  medal." 

"  Oh,  yus,  I  shall  though.  Me  an*  Jakin 
are  the  only  acting-drummers  that'll  be  took 
along.  All  the  rest  is  full  men,  an'  we'll  get 
our  medals  with  them." 

"  They  might  ha'  taken  anybody  but  you, 
Piggy.  You'll  get  killed — you're  so  venture- 
some. Stay  with  me,  Piggy  darlin',  down  at 
the  Depot,  an'  I'll  love  you  true  forever." 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  to  do  that  now,  Cris  ?  You 
said  you  was." 

"  O*  course  I  am,  but  th'  other's  more  com- 
fortable. Wait  till  you've  growed  a  bit, 
Piggy.  You  aren't  no  taller  than  me  now." 

"  I've  bin  in  the  Army  for  two  years  an'  I'm 
not  goin'  to  get  out  of  a  chanst  o'  seein'  serv- 
ice, an'  don't  you  try  to  make  me  do  so.  I'll 
come  back,  Cris,  an'  when  I  take  on  as  a 
man  I'll  marry  you — marry  you  when  I'm  a 
Lance." 

"  Promise,  Piggy  ? " 


no         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Lew  reflected  on  the  future  as  arranged  by 
Jakin  a  short  time  previously,  but  Cris's 
mouth  was  very  near  to  his  own. 

"  I  promise,  s'elp  me  Gawd  1  "  said  he. 

Cris  slid  an  arm  round  his  neck. 

"  I  won't  'old  you  back  no  more,  Piggy. 
Go  away  an'  get  your  medal,  an'  I'll  make  you 
a  new  button-bag  as  nice  as  I  know  how,"  she 
whispered. 

"  Put  some  o'  your  'air  into  it,  Cris,  an'  I'll 
keep  it  in  my  pocket  so  long's  I'm  alive." 

Then  Cris  wept  anew,  and  the  interview 
ended.  Public  feeling  among  the  drummer- 
boys  rose  to  fever  pitch,  and  the  lives  of  Jakin 
and  Lew  became  unenviable.  Not  only  had 
they  been  permitted  to  enlist  two  years  before 
the  regulation  boy's  age — fourteen — but,  by 
virtue,  it  seemed,  of  their  extreme  youth,  they 
were  allowed  to  go  to  the  front — which  thing 
had  not  happened  to  acting-drummers  within 
the  knowledge  of  boy.  The  Band  which  was 
to  accompany  the  Regiment  had  been  cut 
down  to  the  regulation  twenty  men,  the  sur- 
plus returning  to  the  ranks.  Jakin  and  Lew 
were  attached  to  the  Band  as  supernumeraries, 
though  they  would  much  have  preferred  being 
Company  buglers. 

"  Don't  matter  much,"  said  Jakin  after  the 
medical  inspection.  "  Be  thankful  that  we're 
'lowed  to  go  at  all.  The  Doctor  'e  said  that  if  we 
could  stand  what  we  took  from  the  Bazar  Ser« 
geant's  son  we'd  stand  pretty  nigh  anything." 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    in 

"  Which  we  will,"  said  Lew,  looking  ten- 
derly at  the  ragged  and  ill-made  housewife 
that  Cris  had  given  him,  with  a  lock  of  her 
hair  worked  into  a  sprawling  "  L"  upon  the 
cover. 

"  It  was  the  best  I  could,"  she  sobbed.  "  I 
wouldn't  let  mother  nor  the  Sergeant's  tailor 
'elp  me.  Keep  it  always,  Piggy,  an'  remem- 
ber I  love  you  true." 

They  marched  to  the  railway  station,  nine 
hundred  and  sixty  strong,  and  every  soul  in 
cantonments  turned  out  to  see  them  go.  The 
drummers  gnashed  their  teeth  at  Jakin  and 
Lew  marching  with  the  Band,  the  married  wo- 
men wept  upon  the  platform,  and  the  Regiment 
cheered  its  noble  self  black  in  the  face. 

"  A  nice  level  lot,"  said  the  Colonel  to  the 
Second-in-Command,  as  they  watched  the  first 
four  companies  entraining. 

"  Fit  to  do  anything,"  said  the  Second-in- 
Command  enthusiastically.  "  But  it  seems  to 
me  they're  a  thought  too  young  and  tender  for 
the  work  in  hand.  It's  bitter  cold  up  at  the 
Front  now." 

"  They're  sound  enough,"  said  the  Colonel. 
"  We  must  take  our  chance  of  sick  casual- 
ties." 

So  they  went  northward,  ever  northward, 
past  droves  and  droves  of  camels,  armies  of 
camp  followers,  and  legions  of  laden  mules, 
the  throng  thickening  day  by  day,  till  with  a 
shriek  the  train  pulled  up  at  a  hopelessly  con- 


H2         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

gested  junction  where  six  lines  of  temporary 
track  accommodated  six  forty-wagon  trains ; 
where  whistles  blew,  Babus  sweated  and  Com- 
missariat officers  swore  from  dawn  till  far  into 
the  night  amid  the  wind-driven  chaff  of  the 
fodder-bales  and  the  lowing  of  a  thousand 
steers. 

"  Hurry  up — you're  badly  wanted  at  the 
Front,"  was  the  message  that  greeted  the  Fore 
and  Aft,  and  the  occupants  of  the  Red  Cross 
carriages  told  the  same  tale. 

"  'Tisn't  so  much  the  bloomin'  fighting," 
gasped  a  headbound  trooper  of  Hussars  to  a 
knot  of  admiring  Fore  and  Afts.  "  'Tisn't  so 
much  the  bloomin'  fightin',  though  there's 
enough  o'  that.  It's  the  bloomin'  food  an' 
the  bloomin'  climate.  Frost  all  night  'cept 
when  it  hails,  and  biling  sun  all  day,  and  the 
water  stinks  fit  to  knock  you  down.  I  got  my 
'ead  chipped  like  a  egg ;  I've  got  pneumonia 
too,  an'  my  guts  is  all  out  o'  order.  'Tain't 
no  bloomin'  picnic  in  those  parts,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  Wot  are  the  niggers  like  ?  "  demanded  a 
private. 

"  There's  some  prisoners  in  that  train 
yonder.  Go  an'  look  at  'em.  They're  the 
aristocracy  o'  the  country.  The  common  folk 
are  a  dashed  sight  uglier.  If  you  want  to 
know  what  they  fight  with,  reach  under  my 
seat  an'  pull  out  the  long  knife  that's  there." 

They  dragged  out  and  beheld  for  the  first 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  113 

time  the  grim,  bone-handled,  triangular 
Afghan  knife.  It  was  almost  as  long  as 
Lew. 

"That's  the  thing  to  jint  ye,"  said  the 
trooper  feebly. 

'*  It  can  take  off  a  man's  arm  at  the  shoul- 
der as  easy  as  slicing  butter.  I  halved  the 
beggar  that  used  that  'un,  but  there's  more  of 
his  likes  up  above.  They  don't  understand 
thrustin',  but  they're  devils  to  slice." 

The  men  strolled  across  the  tracks  to  inspect 
the  Afghan  prisoners.  They  were  unlike  any 
"  niggers  "  that  the  Fore  and  Aft  had  ever 
met — these  huge,  black-haired,  scowling  sons 
of  the  Beni-Israel.  As  the  men  stared  the 
Afghans  spat  freely  and  muttered  one  to 
another  with  lowered  eyes. 

"  My  eyes !  Wot  awful  swine  1  "  said  Jakin, 
who  was  in  the  rear  of  the  procession.  "  Say, 
old  man,  how  you  got puckrowed,  eh?  Kis- 
wasti  you  wasn't  hanged  for  your  ugly  face, 
hey?" 

The  tallest  of  the  company  turned,  his  leg- 
irons  clanking  at  .the  movement,  and  stared  at 
the  boy.  "  See  1 "  he  cried  to  his  fellows  in 
Pushto.  "  They  send  children  against  us, 
What  a  people,  and  what  fools  1 " 

"  Hya  /"  said  Jakin,  nodding  his  head  cheer- 
ily. "You  go  down-country.  Khana  get, 
peenikapanec  get — live  like  a  bloomin'  Raja  ke 
marfik.  That's  a  better  bandobust  than  baynit 
get  it  in  your  innards.  Good-by,  ole  man. 
8 


ri4        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Take  care  o'  your  beautiful  figure'ed,  an*  try 
to  look  kushy" 

The  men  laughed  and  fell  in  for  their  first 
march  when  they  began  to  realize  that  a 
soldier's  life  was  not  all  beer  and  skittles. 
They  were  much  impressed  with  the  size  and 
bestial  ferocity  of  the  niggers  whom  they  had 
now  learned  to  call  "  Paythans,"  and  more 
with  the  exceeding  discomfort  of  their  own 
surroundings.  Twenty  old  soldiers  in  the 
.corps  would  have  taught  them  how  to  make 
•themselves  moderately  snug  at  night,  but  they 
!had  no  old  soldiers,  and,  as  the  troops  on  the 
fline  of  march  said,  "  they  lived  like  pigs." 
They  learned  the  heart-breaking  cussedness  of 
camp-kitchens  and  camels  and  the  depravity 
of  an  E.  P.  tent  and  a  wither-wrung  mule. 
They  studied  animalculae  in  water,  and  de- 
veloped a  few  cases  of  dysentery  in  their 
study. 

At  the  end  of  their  third  march  they  were 
disagreeably  surprised  by  the  arrival  in  their 
camp  of  a  hammered  iron  slug  which,  fired 
from  a  steady-rest  at  seven  hundred  yards, 
flicked  out  the  brains  of  a  private  seated  by 
the  fire.  This  robbed  them  of  their  peace 
for  a  night,  and  was  the  beginning  of  a  long- 
range  fire  carefully  calculated  to  that  end. 
In  the  daytime  they  saw  nothing  except  an 
occasional  puff  of  smoke  from  a  crag  above 
the  line  of  march.  At  night  there  were  dis- 
tant spurts  of  flame  and  occasional  casualties, 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    115 

which  set  the  whole  camp  blazing  into  the 
gloom,  and,  occasionally,  into  opposite  tents. 
Then  they  swore  vehemently  and  vowed  that 
this  was  magnificent  but  not  war. 

Indeed  it  was  not.  The  Regiment  could 
not  halt  for  reprisals  against  the  franc-tireurs 
of  the  country  side.  Its  duty  was  to  go  for- 
ward  and  make  connection  with  the  Scotch 
and  Gurkha  troops  with  which  it  was  brigaded. 
The  Afghans  knew  this,  and  knew  too,  after 
their  first  tentative  shots,  that  they  were  deal- 
ing with  a  raw  regiment.  Thereafter  they 
devoted  themselves  to  the  task  of  keeping 
the  Fore  and  Aft  on  the  strain.  Not  for  any- 
thing would  they  have  taken  equal  liberties 
with  a  seasoned  corps — with  the  wicked  little 
Gurkhas,  whose  delight  it  was  to  lie  out  on 
the  open  on  a  dark  night  and  stalk  their 
stalkers — with  the  terrible,  big  men  dressed 
in  women's  clothes,  who  could  be  heard  pray- 
ing to  their  God  in  the  night-watches,  and 
whose  peace  of  mind  no  amount  of  "  sniping  " 
could  shake — or  with  those  vile  Sikhs,  who 
marched  so  ostentatiously  unprepared  and 
who  dealt  out  such  grim  reward  to  those 
who  tried  to  profit  by  that  unpreparedness. 
This  white  regiment  was  different — quite  dif- 
ferent It  slept  like  a  hog,  and,  like  a  hog, 
charged  in  every  direction  when  it  was  roused. 
Its  sentries  walked  with  a  footfall  that  could 
be  heard  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ;  would  fire 
at  anything  that  moved — even  a  driven  don; 


n6         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

key — and  when  they  had  once  fired,  could  be 
scientifically  "  rushed  "  and  laid  out  a  horror 
and  an  offense  against  the  morning  sun. 
Then  there  were  camp-followers  who  straggled 
and  could  be  cut  up  without  fear.  Their 
shrieks  would  disturb  the  white  boys,  and  the 
loss  of  their  services  would  inconvenience 
them  sorely. 

Thus,  at  every  march,  the  hidden  enemy 
became  bolder  and  the  regiment  writhed  and 
twisted  under  attacks  it  could  not  avenge. 
The  crowning  triumph  was  a  sudden  night- 
rush  ending  in  the  cutting  of  many  tent-ropes, 
the  collapse  of  the  sodden  canvas,  and  a  glori- 
ous knifing  of  the  men  who  struggled  and 
kicked  below.  It  was  a  great  deed,  neatly 
carried  out,  and  it  shook  the  already  shaken 
nerves  of  the  Fore  and  Aft.  All  the  courage 
that  they  had  been  required  to  exercise  up  to 
this  point  was  the  "  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing courage " ;  and  they,  so  far,  had  only 
succeeded  in  shooting  their  comrades  and 
losing  their  sleep. 

Sullen,  discontented,  cold,  savage,  sick, 
with  their  uniforms  dulled  and  unclean,  the 
"  Fore  and  Aft "  joined  their  Brigade. 

"  I  hear  you  had  a  tough  time  of  it  coming 
up,"  said  the  Brigadier.  But  when  he  saw 
the  hospital-sheets  his  face  fell. 

"  This  is  bad,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  They're 
as  rotten  as  sheep."  And  aloud  to  the 
Colonel, — "  I'm  afraid  we  can't  spare  you 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft   117 

just  yet.     We  want  all  we  have,  else  I  should 
have  given  you  ten  days  to  recruit  in." 

The  Colonel  winced.  "  On  my  honor, 
Sir,"  he  returned,  "  there  is  not  the  least 
necessity  to  think  of  sparing  us.  My  men 
have  been  rather  mauled  and  upset  without  a 
fair  return.  They  only  want  to  go  in  some- 
where where  they  can  see  what's  before 
them." 

"Can't  say  I  think  much  of  the  Fore  and 
Fit,"  said  the  Brigadier  in  confidence  to  his 
Brigade-Major.  "  They've  lost  all  their  sol- 
diering, and,  by  the  trim  of  them,  might  have 
marched  through  the  country  from  the  other 
side.  A  more  fagged-out  set  of  men  I  never 
put  eyes  on." 

"  Oh,  they'll  improve  as  the  work  goes  on. 
The  parade  gloss  has  been  rubbed  off  a  littles 
but  they'll  put  on  field  polish  before  long," 
said  the  Brigade-Major.  "  They've  been 
mauled,  and  they  quite  don't  understand  it" 

They  did  not.  All  the  hitting  was  on  one 
side,  and  it  was  cruelly  hard  hitting  with  ac- 
cessories that  made  them  sick.  There  was 
also  the  real  sickness  that  laid  hold  of  a 
strong  man  and  dragged  him  howling  to  the 
grave.  Worst  of  all,  their  officers  knew  just 
as  little  of  the  country  as  the  men  themselves, 
and  looked  as  if  they  did.  The  Fore  and  Aft 
were  in  a  thoroughly  unsatisfactory  condition, 
but  they  believed  that  all  would  be  well  if  they 
could  once  get  a  fair  go-in  at  the  enemy.  Pot 


u8         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

shots  up  and  down  the  valleys  were  unsatis- 
factory, and  the  bayonet  never  seemed  to  get 
a  chance.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well,  for  a  long- 
limbed  Afghan  with  a  knife  had  a  reach  of 
eight  feet,  and  could  carry  away  enough  lead 
to  disable  three  Englishmen.  The  Fore  and 
Fit  would  like  some  rifle-practise  at  the  enemy 
— all  seven  hundred  rifles  blazing  together. 
That  wish  showed  the  mood  of  the  men. 

The  Gurkhas  walked  into  their  camp,  and 
in  broken,  barrack-room  English  strove  to 
fraternize  with  them ;  offered  them  pipes  of 
tobacco  and  stood  them  treat  at  the  canteen. 
But  the  Fore  and  Aft,  not  knowing  much  of 
the  nature  of  the  Gurkhas,  treated  them  as 
they  would  treat  any  other  "niggers,"  and 
the  little  men  in  green  trotted  back  to  their 
firm  friends  the  Highlanders,  and  with  many 
grins  confided  to  them  : — "  That  dam  white 
regiment  no  dam  use.  Sulky — ugh  I  Dirty — 
ugh  1  Hya,  any  tot  for  Johnny  ?  "  Whereat 
the  Highlanders  smote  the  Gurkhas  as  to  the 
head,  and  told  them  not  to  vilify  a  British 
Regiment,  and  the  Gurkhas  grinned  cavern- 
ously,  for  the  Highlanders  were  their  elder 
brothers  and  entitled  to  the  privileges  of  kin- 
ship. The  common  soldier  who  touches  a 
Gurkha  is  more  than  likely  to  have  his  head 
sliced  open. 

Three  days  later  the  Brigadier  arranged  a 
battle  according  to  the  rules  of  war  and  the 
peculiarity  of  the  Afghan  temperament.  The 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  119 

enemy  were  massing  in  inconvenient  strength 
among  the  hills,  and  the  moving  of  many 
green  standards  warned  him  that  the  tribes 
were  "  up "  in  aid  of  the  Afghan  regular 
troops.  A  Squadron  and  a  half  of  Bengal 
Lancers  represented  the  available  Cavalry, 
and  two  screw-guns  borrowed  from  a  column 
thirty  miles  away,  the  Artillery  at  the  Gen- 
eral's disposal. 

"  If  they  stand,  as  I've  a  very  strong  notion 
that  they  will,  I  fancy  we  shall  see  an  infantry 
fight  that  will  be  worth  watching,"  said  the 
Brigadier.  "  We'll  do  it  in  style.  Each 
regiment  shall  be  played  into  action  by  its 
Band,  and  we'll  hold  the  Cavalry  in  reserve." 

"  For  all  the  reserve  ?  "  somebody  asked. 

"  For  all  the  reserve ;  because  we're  going 
to  crumple  them  up,"  said  the  Brigadier,  who 
was  an  extraordinary  Brigadier,  and  did  not 
believe  in  the  value  of  a  reserve  when  deal- 
ing with  Asiatics.  And,  indeed,  when  you 
come  to  think  of  it,  had  the  British  Army  con- 
sistently waited  for  reserves  in  all  its  little 
affairs,  the  boundaries  of  Our  Empire  would 
have  stopped  at  Brighton  beach. 

That  battle  was  to  be  a  glorious  battle. 

The  three  regiments  debouching  from  three 
separate  gorges,  after  duly  crowning  the 
heights  above,  were  to  converge  from  the  cen- 
ter, left,  and  right  upon  what  we  will  call  the 
Afghan  army,  then  stationed  towards  the 
lower  extremity  of  a  flat-bottomed  valley. 


I2O         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  three  sides  of  the 
valley  practically  belonged  to  the  English, 
while  the  fourth  was  strictly  Afghan  property. 
In  the  event  of  defeat  the  Afghans  had  the 
rocky  hills  to  fly  to,  where  the  fire  from  the 
guerilla  tribes  in  aid  would  cover  their  retreat. 
In  the  event  of  victory  these  same  tribes 
would  rush  down  and  lend  their  weight  to  the 
rout  of  the  British. 

The  screw-guns  were  to  shell  the  head  of 
each  Afghan  rush  that  was  made  in  close 
formation,  and  the  Cavalry,  held  in  reserve 
>.n  the  right  valley,  were  to  gently  stimulate 
the  break-up  which  would  follow  on  the  com- 
bined attack.  The  Brigadier,  sitting  upon  a 
rock  overlooking  the  valley,  would  watch  the 
battle  unrolled  at  his  feet.  The  Fore  and 
Aft  would  debouch  from  the  central  gorge, 
the  Gurkhas  from  the  left,  and  the  Highlanders 
from  the  right,  for  the  reason  that  the  left 
flank  of  the  enemy  seemed  as  though  it 
required  the  most  hammering.  It  was  not 
every  day  that  an  Afghan  force  would  take 
ground  in  the  open,  and  the  Brigadier  was 
resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

"  If  we  only  had  a  few  more  men,"  he  said 
plaintively,  "  we  could  surround  the  creatures 
and  crumble  'em  up  thoroughly.  As  it  is,  I'm 
afraid  we  can  only  cut  them  up  as  they  run. 
It's  a  great  pity." 

The  Fore  and  Aft  had  enjoyed  unbroken 
peace  far  five  days,  and  were  beginning,  ic 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    121 

spite  of  dysentery,  to  recover  their  nerve. 
But  they  were  not  happy,  for  they  did  not 
know  the  work  in  hand,  and  had  they  known, 
would  not  have  known  how  to  do  it.  Through- 
out those  five  days  in  which  old  soldiers  might 
have  taught  them  the  craft  of  the  game,  they 
discussed  together  their  misadventures  in  the 
past — how  such  an  one  was  alive  at  dawn  and 
dead  ere  the  dusk,  and  with  what  shrieks  and 
struggles  such  another  had  given  up  his  soul 
under  the  Afghan  knife.  Death  was  a  new 
and  horrible  thing  to  the  sons  of  mechanics 
who  were  used  to  die  decently  of  zymotic 
disease ;  and  their  careful  conservation  in 
barracks  had  done  nothing  to  make  them  look 
upon  it  with  less  dread. 

Very  early  in  the  dawn  the  bugles  began  to 
blow,  and  the  Fore  and  Aft,  filled  with  a  mis- 
guided enthusiasm,  turned  out  without  waiting 
for  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit ;  and  were 
rewarded  by  being  kept  under  arms  in  the 
cold  while  the  other  regiments  leisurely  pre- 
pared for  the  fray.  All  the  world  knows  that 
it  is  ill  taking  the  breeks  off  a  Highlander. 
It  is  much  iller  to  try  to  make  him  stir  unless 
he  is  convinced  of  the  necessity  for  haste. 

The  Fore  and  Aft  waited,  leaning  upon 
their  rifles  and  listening  to  the  protests  of 
their  empty  stomachs.  The  Colonel  did  his 
best  to  remedy  the  default  of  lining  as  soon 
as  it  was  borne  in  upon  him  that  the  affair 
would  not  begin  at  once,  and  so  well  did  he 


122         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

succeed  that  the  coffee  was  just  ready  when 
— the  men  moved  off,  their  Band  leading. 
Even  then  there  had  been  a  mistake  in  time, 
and  the  Fore  and  Aft  came  out  into  the  valley 
ten  minutes  before  the  proper  hour.  Their 
Band  wheeled  to  the  right  after  reaching  the 
open,  and  retired  behind  a  little  rocky  knoll 
still  playing  while  the  regiment  went  past. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  sight  that  opened  on 
the  uninstructed  view,  for  the  lower  end  of  the 
valley  appeared  to  be  filled  by  an  army  in 
position — real  and  actual  regiments  attired  in 
red  coats,  and — of  this  there  was  no  doubt — 
firing  Martini-Henry  bullets  which  cut  up  the 
ground  a  hundred  yards  in  front  of  the  leading 
company.  Over  that  pock-marked  ground  the 
regiment  had  to  pass,  and  it  opened  the  ball 
with  a  general  and  profound  courtesy  to  the 
piping  pickets  ;  ducking  in  perfect  time,  as 
though  it  had  been  brazed  on  a  rod.  Being 
half-capable  of  thinking  for  itself,  it  fired  a 
volley  by  the  simple  process  cf  pitching  its 
rifle  into  its  shoulder  and  pulling  the  trigger. 
The  bullets  may  have  accounted  for  some  of 
the  watchers  on  the  hillside,  but  they  certainly 
did  not  affect  the  mass  of  enemy  in  front,  while 
the  noise  of  the  rifles  drowned  any  orders  that 
might  have  been  given. 

"  Good  God  !  "  said  the  Brigadier,  sitting  on 
the  rock  high  above  all.  "  That  regiment  lias 
spoilt  the  whole  show.  Hurry  up  the  others, 
and  let  the  screw-guns  get  off." 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    123 

But  the  screw-guns,  in  working  round  the 
heights,  had  stumbled  upon  a  wasp's  nest  of 
a  small  mud  fort  which  they  incontinently 
shelled  at  eight  hundred  yards,  to  the  huge 
discomfort  of  the  occupants,  who  were  unac- 
customed to  weapons  of  such  devilish  preci- 
sion. 

The  Fore  and  Aft  continued  to  go  forward 
but  with  shortened  stride.  Where  were  the 
other  regiments,  and  why  did  these  niggers 
use  Martinis  ?  They  took  open  order  instinc- 
tively, lying  down  and  firing  at  random,  rush- 
ing a  few  paces  forward  and  lying  down  again, 
according  to  the  regulations.  Once  in  this 
formation,  each  man  felt  himself  desperately 
alone,  and  edged  in  towards  his  fellow  for 
comfort's  sake. 

Then  the  crack  of  his  neighbor's  rifle  at  his 
ear  led  him  to  fire  as  rapidly  as  he  could — 
again  for  the  sake  of  the  comfort  of  the  noise. 
The  reward  was  not  long  delayed.  Five  vol- 
leys plunged  the  files  in  banked  smoke  im- 
penetrable to  the  eye,  and  the  bullets  began 
to  take  ground  twenty  or  thirty  yards  in  front 
of  the  firers,  as  the  weight  of  the  bayonet 
dragged  down,  and  to  the  right  arms  wearied 
with  holding  the  kick  of  the  leaping  Martini. 
The  Company  Commanders  peered  helplessly 
through  the  smoke,  the  more  nervous  mechan- 
ically trying  to  fan  it  away  with  their  hel- 
mets. 

"  High  and  to  the  left  I  "  bawled  a  Captain 


124        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

till  he  was  hoarse.  "  No  good  !  Cease  fir« 
ing,  and  let  it  drift  away  a  bit." 

Three  and  four  times  the  bugles  shrieked 
the  order,  and  when  it  was  obeyed  the  Fore 
and  Aft  looked  that  their  foe  should  be  lying 
before  them  in  mown  swaths  of  men.  A  light 
wind  drove  the  smoke  to  leeward,  and  showed 
the  enemy  still  in  position  and  apparently  un- 
affected. A  quarter  of  a  ton  of  lead  had  been 
buried  a  furlong  in  front  of  them,  as  the  ragged 
earth  attested. 

That  was  not  demoralizing.  They  were 
waiting  for  the  mad  riot  to  die  down,  and  were 
firing  quietly  into  the  heart  of  the  smoke.  A 
private  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  spun  up  his  com- 
pany shrieking  with  agony,  another  was  kick- 
ing the  earth  and  gasping,  and  a  third,  ripped 
through  the  lower  intestines  by  a  jagged  bullet, 
was  calling  aloud  on  his  comrades  to  put  him 
out  of  his  pain.  These  were  the  casualties, 
and  they  were  not  soothing  to  hear  or  see. 
The  smoke  cleared  to  a  dull  haze. 

Then  the  foe  began  to  shout  with  a  great 
shouting  and  a  mass — a  black  mass — detached 
itself  from  the  main  body,  and  rolled  over  the 
ground  at  horrid  speed.  It  was  composed  of, 
perhaps,  three  hundred  men,  who  would  shout 
and  fire  and  slash  if  the  rush  of  their  fifty 
comrades  who  were  determined  to  die  carried 
home.  The  fifty  were  Ghazis,  half-maddened 
with  drugs  and  wholly  mad  with  religious 
fanaticism.  When  they  rushed  the  British 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  125 

fire  ceased,  and  in  the  lull  the  order  was  given 
to  close  ranks  and  meet  them  with  the  bayonet. 

Any  one  who  knew  the  business  could  have 
told  the  Fore  and  Aft  that  the  only  way  of 
dealing  with  a  Ghazi  rush  is  by  volleys  at  long 
ranges ;  because  a  man  who  means  to  die,  who 
desires  to  die,  who  will  gain  heaven  by  dying, 
must,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  kill  a  man  who 
has  a  lingering  prejudice  in  favor  of  life  if  he 
can  close  with  the  latter.  Where  they  should 
have  closed  and  gone  forward,  the  Fore  and 
Aft  opened  out  and  skirmished,  and  where 
they  should  have  opened  out  and  fired,  they 
closed  and  waited. 

A  man  dragged  from  his  blankets  half  awake 
and  unfed  is  never  in  a  pleasant  frame  of 
mind.  Nor  does  his  happiness  increase  when 
he  watches  the  whites  of  the  eyes  of  three 
hundred  six-foot  fiends  upon  whose  beards 
the  foam  is  lying,  upon  whose  tongues  is  a 
roar  of  wrath,  and  in  whose  hands  are  three- 
foot  knives. 

The  Fore  and  Aft  heard  the  Gurkha  bugles 
bringing  that  regiment  forward  at  the  double, 
while  the  neighing  of  the  Highland  pipes  came 
from  the  left.  They  strove  to  stay  where  they 
were,  though  the  bayonets  wavered  down  the 
line  like  the  oars  of  a  ragged  boat.  Then 
they  felt  body  to  body  the  amazing  physical 
strength  of  their  foes ;  a  shriek  of  pain  ended 
the  rush,  and  the  knives  fell  amid  scenes  not 
to  be  told.  The  men  clubbed  together  and 


126         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

smote  blindly — as  often  as  not  at  their  own 
fellows.  Their 'front  crumpled  like  paper,  and 
the  fifty  Ghazis  passed  on ;  their  backers, 
now  drunk  with  success,  fighting  as  madly 
as  they. 

Then  the  rear-ranks  were  bidden  to  close 
up,  and  the  subalterns  dashed  into  the  stew — 
alone.  For  the  rear-rank  had  heard  the 
clamor  in  front,  the  yells  and  the  howls  of 
pain,  and  had  seen  the  dark  stale  blood  that 
makes  afraid.  They  were  not  going  to  stay. 
It  was  the  rushing  of  the  camps  over  again. 
Let  their  officers  go  to  Hell,  if  they  chose ; 
they  would  get  away  from  the  knives. 

"  Come  on !  "  shrieked  the  subalterns,  and 
their  men,  cursing  them,  drew  back,  each  clos- 
ing into  his  neighbor  and  wheeling  round. 

Charteris  and  Devlin,  subalterns  of  the  last 
company,  faced  their  death  alone  in  the  belief 
that  their  men  would  follow.  ' 

"  You've  killed  me,  you  cowards,"  sobbed 
Devlin  and  dropped,  cut  from  the  shoulder- 
strap  to  the  center  of  the  chest,  and  a  fresh 
detachment  of  his  men  retreating,  always  re- 
treating, trampled  him  under  foot  as  they 
made  for  the  pass  whence  they  had  emerged. 

I  kissed  her  in  the  kitchen  and  I  kissed  her  in  the  hall, 

Child'un,  child'un,  follow  me  I 
Oh  Golly,  said  the  cook,  is  he  gwine  to  kiss  us  all  ? 

Halla— Halla— Halla  Hallelujah ! 

The  Gurkhas  were  pouring  through  the  left 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  127 

gorge  and  over  the  heights  at  the  double  to 
the  invitation  of  their  regimental  Quick-step. 
The  black  rocks  were  crowned  with  dark 
green  spiders  as  the  bugles  gave  tongue  jubi- 
lantly : — 

In  the  morning  !  In  the  morning  by  the  bright  light  1 
When  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet  in  the  morning  1 

The  Gurkha  rear-companies  tripped  and 
blundered  over  loose  stones.  The  front-files 
halted  for  a  moment  to  take  stock  of  the  val- 
ley and  to  settle  stray  boot-laces.  Then  a 
happy  little  sigh  of  contentment  soughed  down 
the  ranks,  and  it  was  as  though  the  land 
smiled,  for  behold,  there  below  was  the  enemy, 
and  it  was  to  meet  them  that  the  Gurkhas  had 
doubled  so  hastily.  There  was  much  enemy. 
There  would  be  amusement.  The  little  men 
hitched  their  kukris  well  to  hand,  and  gaped 
expectantly  at  their  officers  as  terriers  grin  ere 
the  stone  is  cast  for  them  to  fetch.  The 
Gurkhas'  ground  sloped  downward  to  the  val- 
ley, and  they  enjoyed  a  fair  view  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. They  sat  upon  the  boulders  to 
watch,  for  their  officers  were  not  going  to 
waste  their  wind  in  assisting  to  repulse  a  Ghazi 
rush  more  than  half  a  mile  away.  Let  the 
white  men  look  to  their  own  front. 

"  Hi !  yi  1  "  said  the  Subadar-Major,  who  was 
sweating  profusely.  "  Dam  fools  yonder, 
stand  close  order  1  This  is  no  time  for  close 
order,  it's  the  time  for  volleys.  Ugh  I " 


128         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Horrified,  amused,  and  indignant,  the  Gur« 
khas  beheld  the  retirement — let  us  be  gentle 
— of  the  Fore  and  Aft  with  a  running  chorus  of 
oaths  and  commentaries. 

"  They  run  !  The  white  men  run  1  Col- 
onel Sahib,  may  we  also  do  a  little  running  ? " 
murmured  Runbir  Thappa,  the  Senior  Jema- 
dar. 

But  the  Colonel  would  have  none  of  it. 
"  Let  the  beggars  be  cut  up  a  little,"  said  he 
wrathfully.  "  'Serves  'em  right.  They'll  be 
prodded  into  facing  round  in  a  minute."  He 
looked  through  his  field-glasses,  and  caught 
the  glint  of  an  officer's  sword. 

"  Bering  'em  with  the  flat — damned  con- 
scripts !  How  the  Ghazis  are  walking  into 
them  1  "  said  he. 

The  Fore  and  Aft,  heading  back,  bore  with 
them  their  officers.  The  narrowness  of  the 
pass  forced  the  mob  into  solid  formation,  and 
the  rear-rank  delivered  some  sort  of  a  waver- 
ing volley.  The  Ghazis  drew  off,  for  they  did 
not  know  what  reserves  the  gorge  might  hide. 
Moreover,  it  was  never  wise  to  chase  white 
men  too  far.  They  returned  as  wolves  re- 
turn to  cover,  satisfied  with  the  slaughter  that 
they  had  done,  and  only  stopping  to  slash  at 
the  wounded  on  the  ground.  A  quarter  of  a 
mile  had  the  Fore  and  Aft  retreated,  and  now, 
jammed  in  the  pass,  was  quivering  with  pain, 
shaken  and  demoralized  with  fear,  while  the 
officers,  maddened  beyond  control,  smote  the 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft    129 

men  with  the  hilts  and  the  flats  of  their 
swords. 

"  Get  back.  Get  back,  you  cowards — you 
women  I  Right  about  face — column  of  com- 
panies, form — you  hounds  !  "  shouted  the 
Colonel,  and  the  subalterns  swore  aloud.  But 
the  Regiment  wanted  to  go — to  go  anywhere 
out  of  the  range  of  those  merciless  knives. 
It  swayed  to  and  fro  irresolutely  with  shouts 
and  outcries,  while  from  the  right  the  Gurkhas 
dropped  volley  after  volley  of  cripple-stopper 
Snider  bullets  at  long  range  into  the  mob  of 
the  Ghazis  returning  to  their  own  troops. 

The  Fore  and  Aft  Band,  though  protected 
from  direct  fire  by  the  rocky  knoll  under 
which  it  had  sat  down,  lied  at  the  first  rush. 
Jakin  and  Lew  would  have  fled  also,  but  their 
short  legs  left  them  fifty  yards  in  the  rear,  and 
by  the  time  the  Band  had  mixed  with  the  reg- 
iment, they  were  painfully  aware  that  they 
would  have  to  close  in  alone  and  unsupported. 

"  Get  back  to  that  rock,"  gasped  Jakin. 
"  They  won't  see  us  there." 

And  they  returned  to  the  scattered  instru- 
ments of  the  Band ;  their  hearts  nearly  burst- 
ing their  ribs. 

"  Here's  a  nice  show  for  us,"  said  Jakin. 
throwing  himself  full  length  on  the  ground. 
"  A  bloomin'  fine  show  for  British  Infantry  I 
Oh,  the  devils  1  They've  gone  an'  left  us 
alone  here  I  Wot'll  we  do  ?  " 

Lew  took  possession  of  a  cast-off  water 
9 


130         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

bottle,   which  naturally   was  full  of  canteen 
rum,  and  drank  till  he  coughed  again. 

"  Drink,"  said  he  shortly.  "  They'll  come 
back  in  a  minute  or  two — you  see." 

Jakin  drank,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  the 
regiment's  return.  They  could  hear  a  dull 
clamor  from  the  head  of  the  valley  of  retreat, 
and  saw  the  Ghazis  slink  back,  quickening 
their  pace  as  the  Gurkhas  fired  at  them. 
•  "  We're  all  that's  left  of  the  Band,  an'  we'll 
be  cut  up  as  sure  as  death,"  said  Jakin. 

"  I'll  die  game,  then,"  said  Lew  thickly, 
fumbling  with  his  tiny  drummer's  sword. 
The  drink  was  working  on  his  brain  as  it  was 
on  Jakin's. 

"  '  Old  on  !  I  know  something  better  than 
fightin',"  said  Jakin,  "  stung  by  the  splendor 
of  a  sudden  thought "  due  chiefly  to  rum. 
"  Tip  our  bloomin'  cowards  yonder  the  word 
to  come  back.  The  Paythan  beggars  are  well 
away.  Come  on,  Lew  1  We  won't  get  hurt. 
Take  the  fife  an'  give  me  the  drum.  The 
Old  Step  for  all  your  bloomin'  guts  are  worth  ! 
There's  a  few  of  our  men  coming  back  now. 
Stand  up,  ye  drunken  little  defaulter.  By 
your  right — quick  march  1  " 

He  slipped  the  drum-sling  over  his  shoul- 
der, thrust  the  fife  into  Lew's  hand,  and  the 
two  boys  marched  out  of  the  cover  of  the 
rock  into  the  open,  making  a  hideous  hash  of 
the  first  bars  of  the  "  British  Grenadiers." 

As  Lew  had  said,  a  few  of  the  Fore  and 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  131 

Aft  were  coming  back  sullenly  and  shame- 
facedly under  the  stimulus  of  blows  and 
abuse ;  their  red  coats  shone  at  the  head  of 
the  valley,  and  behind  them  were  wavering 
bayonets.  But  between  this  shattered  line 
and  the  enemy,  who  with  Afghan  suspicion 
feared  that  the  hasty  retreat  meant  an  am- 
bush, and  had  not  moved  therefore,  lay  half 
a  mile  of  level  ground  dotted  only  by  the 
wounded. 

The  tune  settled  into  full  swing  and  the 
boys  kept  shoulder  to  shoulder,  Jakin  bang- 
ing the  drum  as  one  possessed.  The  one 
fife  made  a  thin  and  pitiful  squeaking,  but  the 
tune  carried  far,  even  to  the  Gurkhas. 

"  Come  on,  you  dogs  !  "  muttered  Jakin  to 
himself.  "  Are  we  to  play  forhever  ?  "  Lew 
was  staring  straight  in  front  of  him  and 
marching  more  stiffly  than  ever  he  had  done 
on  parade. 

And  in  bitter  mockery  of  the  distant  'mob, 
the  old  tune  of  the  Old  Line  shrilled  and 
rattled : — 

Some  talk  of  Alexander, 

And  some  of  Hercules  ; 
Of  Hector  and  Lysander, 

And  such  great  names  as  these  t 

There  was  a  far-off  clapping  of  hands  from 
the  Gurkhas,  and  a  roar  from  the  Highlanders 
in  the  distance,  but  never  a  shot  was  fired  by 
British  or  Afghan.  The  two  little  red  dots 


132         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

moved  forward  in  the  open   parallel   to  the 
enemy's  front. 

But  of  all  the  world's  great  heroes, 
There's  none  that  can  compare, 

With  a  tow-row-row-row-row-row, 
To  the  British  Grenadier  I 

The  men  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  were  gather- 
ing thick  at  the  entrance  into  the  plain.  The 
Brigadier  on  the  heights  far  above  was 
speechless  with  rage.  Still  no  movement 
from  the  enemy.  The  day  stayed  to  watch 
the  children. 

Jakin  halted  and  beat  the  long  roll  of  the 
Assembly,  while  the  fife  squeaked  despair- 
ingly. 

"  Right  about  face !  Hold  up,  Lew,  you're 
drunk,"  said  Jakin.  They  wheeled  and 
marched  back : — 

Those  heroes  of  antiquity 
Ne'er  saw  a  cannon-ball, 
Nor  knew  the  force  o'  powder, 

"  Here  they  come  1 :>  said  Jakin.  "  Go  on 
Lew  "  :— 

To  scare  their  foes  withal ! 

The  Fore  and  Aft  were  pouring  out  of  the 
valley.  What  officers  had  said  to  men  in 
that  time  of  shame  and  humiliation  will  never 
be  known  ;  for  neither  officers  nor  men  speak 
of  it  now. 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  133 

"  They  are  coming  anew  !  "  shouted  a  priest 
among  the  Afghans.  "  Do  not  kill  the  boys  I 
Take  them  alive  and  they  shall  be  of  our 
faith." 

But  the  first  volley  had  been  fired,  and 
Lew  dropped  on  his  face.  Jakin  stood  for  a 
minute,  spun  round  and  collapsed,  as  the 
Fore  and  Aft  came  forward,  the  maledictions 
of  their  officers  in  their  ears,  and  in  their 
hearts  the  shame  of  open  shame. 

Half  the  men  had  seen  the  drummers  die, 
and  they  made  no  sign.  They  did  not  even 
shout.  They  doubled  out  straight  across  the 
plain  in  open  order,  and  they  did  not  fire. 

"This,"  said  the  Colonel  of  Gurkhas, 
softly,  "  is  the  real  attack  as  it  ought  to 
have  been  delivered.  Come  on,  my  children." 

"  Ulu-lu-lu-lu  1  "  squealed  the  Gurkhas,  and 
came  down  with  a  joyful  clicking  of  kukris — 
those  vicious  Gurkha  knives. 

On  the  right  there  was  no  rush.  The 
Highlanders,  cannily  commending  their  souls 
to  God  (for  it  matters  as  much  to  a  dead 
man  whether  he  has  been  shot  in  a  Border 
scuffle  or  at  Waterloo),  opened  out  and  fired 
according  to  their  custom,  that  is  to  say  with- 
out heat  and  without  intervals,  while  the 
screw-guns,  having  disposed  of  the  imperti- 
nent mud  fort  aforementioned,  dropped  shell 
after  shell  into  the  clusters  round  the  flicker- 
ing green  standards  on  the  heights. 

"  Charrging  is   an   unfortunate  necessity," 


134         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

murmured  the  Color-Sergeant  of  the  right 
company  of  the  Highlanders. 

"  It  makes  the  men  sweer  so,  but  I  am 
thinkin'  that  it  will  come  to  a  charrge  if  these 
black  devils  stand  much  longer.  Stewarrt, 
man,  you're  firing  into  the  eye  of  the  sun, 
and  he'll  not  take  any  harm  for  Government 
ammuneetion.  A  foot  lower  and  a  great 
deal  slower  1  What  are  the  English  doing? 
They're  very  quiet  there  in  the  center.  Run- 
ning again  ? " 

The  English  were  not  running.  They  were 
hacking  and  hewing  and  stabbing,  for  though 
one  white  man  is  seldom  physically  a  match 
for  an  Afghan  in  a  sheepskin  or  wadded  coat, 
yet,  through  the  pressure  of  many  white  men 
behind,  and  a  certain  thirst  for  revenge  in  his 
heart,  he  becomes  capable  of  doing  much 
with  both  ends  of  his  rifle.  The  Fore  and 
Aft  held  their  fire  till  one  bullet  could  drive 
through  five  or  six  men,  and  the  front  of  the 
Afghan  force  gave  on  the  volley.  They  then 
selected  their  men,  and  slew  them  with 
deep  gasps  and  short  hacking  coughs,  and 
groanings  of  leather  belts  against  strained 
bodies,  and  realized  for  the  first  time  that  an 
Afghan  attacked  is  far  less  formidable  than  an 
Afghan  attacking;  which  fact  old  soldiers 
might  have  told  them. 

But  they  had  no  old  soldiers  in  their  ranks. 

The  Gurkhas'  stall  at  the  bazar  was  the 
noisiest,  for  the  men  were  engaged — to  a 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft  135 

nasty  noise  as  of  beef  being  cut  on  the  block 
— with  the  kukri,  which  they  preferred  to  the 
bayonet ;  well  knowing  how  the  Afghan  hates 
the  half-moon  blade. 

As  the  Afghans  wavered,  the  green  stand- 
ards on  the  mountain  moved  down  to  assist 
them  in  a  last  rally.  Which  was  unwise. 
The  Lancers  chafing  in  the  right  gorge  had 
thrice  despatched  their  only  subaltern  as 
galloper  to  report  on  the  progress  of  affairs. 
On  the  third  occasion  he  returned  with  a 
bullet-graze  on  his  knee,  swearing  strange 
oaths  in  Hindustani,  and  saying  that  all 
things  were  ready.  So  that  Squadron  swung 
round  the  right  of  the  Highlanders  with  a 
wicked  whistling  of  wind  in  the  pennons  of 
its  lances,  and  fell  upon  the  remnant  just 
when,  according  to  all  the  rules  of  war,  it 
should  have  waited  for  the  foe  to  show  more 
signs  of  "wavering. 

But  it  was  a  dainty  charge,  deftly  delivered, 
and  it  ended  by  the  Cavalry  finding  itself  at 
the  head  of  the  pass  by  which  the  Afghans 
intended  to  retreat ;  and  down  the  track  that 
the  lances  had  made  streamed  two  companies 
of  the  Highlanders,  which  was  never  intended 
by  the  Brigadier.  The  new  development  was 
successful.  It  detached  the  enemy  from  his 
base  as  a  sponge  is  torn  from  a  rock,  and  left 
him  ringed  about  with  fire  in  that  pitiless 
plain.  And  as  a  sponge  is  chased  round  the 
bath-tub  by  the  hand  of  the  bather,  so  vrert 


136         Wee  Willie  Winkle 

the  Afghans  chased  till  they  broke  into  little 
detachments  much  more  difficult  to  dispose  of 
than  large  masses. 

"  See  1 "  quoth  the  Brigadier.  "  Everything 
has  come  as  I  arranged.  We've  cut  their 
base,  and  now  we'll  bucket  'em  to  pieces." 

A  direct  hammering  was  all  that  the  Brig- 
adier had  dared  to  hope  for,  considering  the 
size  of  the  force  at  his  disposal ;  but  men  who 
stand  or  fall  by  the  errors  of  their  opponents 
may  be  forgiven  for  turning  Chance  into 
Design.  The  bucketing  went  forward  mer- 
rily. The  Afghan  forces  were  upon  the  run 
— the  run  of  wearied  wolves  who  snarl  and 
bite  over  their  shoulders.  The  red  lances 
dipped  by  twos  and  threes,  and,  with  a  shriek, 
up  rose  the  lance-butt,  like  a  spar  on  a  stormy 
sea,  as  the  trooper  cantering  forward  cleared 
his  point.  The  Lancers  kept  between  their 
prey  and  the  steep  hills,  for  all  who  could 
•.vere  trying  to  escape  from  the  valley  of  death- 
The  Highlanders  gave  the  fugitives  two  hun- 
dred yards'  law,  and  then  brought  them  down, 
gasping  and  choking  ere  they  could  reach 
the  protection  of  the  boulders  above.  The 
Gurkhas  followed  suit ;  but  the  Fore  and  Aft 
were  killing  on  their  own  account,  for  they 
had  penned  a  mass  of  men  between  their 
bayonets  and  a  wall  of  rock,  and  the  flash  of 
the  rifles  was  lighting  the  wadded  coats. 

"  We  cannot  hold  them,  Captain  Sahib  1 " 
panted  a  Ressaidar  of  Lancers.  "  Let  us  try 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft   137 

the  carbine.  The  lance  is  good,  but  it  wastes 
time." 

They  tried  the  carbine,  and  still  the  enemy 
melted  away — fled  up  the  hills  by  hundreds 
when  there  were  only  twenty  bullets  to  stop 
them.  On  the  heights  the  screw-guns  ceased 
firing — they  had  run  out  of  ammunition — and 
the  Brigadier  groaned,  for  the  musketry  fire 
could  not  sufficiently  smash  the  retreat. 
Long  before  the  last  volleys  were  fired,  the 
litters  were  out  in  force  looking  for  the 
wounded.  The  battle  was  over,  and,  but  for 
want  of  fresh  troops,  the  Afghans  would  have 
been  wiped  off  the  earth.  As  it  was  they 
counted  their  dead  by  hundreds,  and  nowhere 
were  the  dead  thicker  than  in  the  track  of  the 
Fore  and  Aft. 

But  the  Regiment  did  not  cheer  with  the 
Highlanders,  nor  did  they  dance  uncouth 
dances  with  the  Gurkhas  among  the  dead. 
They  looked  under  their  brows  at  the  Colonel 
as  they  leaned  upon  their  rifles  and  panted. 

"  Get  back  to  camp,  you.  Haven't  you 
disgraced  yourself  enough  for  one  day  I  Go 
and  look  to  the  wounded.  It's  all  you're  fit 
for,"  said  the  Colonel.  Yet  for  the  past  hour 
the  Fore  and  Aft  had  been  doing  all  that 
mortal  commander  could  expect.  They  had 
lost  heavily  because  they  did  not  know  how 
to  set  about  their  business  with  proper  skill, 
but  they  had  borne  themselves  gallantly,  and 
this  was  their  reward. 


^38        Wee  Willie  Winkle 

A  young  and  sprightly  Color-Sergeant,  who 
had  begun  to  imagine  himself  a  hero,  offered 
his  water-bottle  to  a  Highlander,  whose 
tongue  was  black  with  thirst.  "  I  drink  with 
no  cowards,"  answered  the  youngster  huskily, 
and,  turning  to  a  Gurkha,  said,  "  Hya,  Johnny ! 
Drink  water  got  it  ?  "  The  Gurkha  grinned 
and  passed  his  bottle.  The  Fore  and  Aft  said 
no  word. 

They  went  back  to  camp  when  the  field  of 
strife  had  been  a  little  mopped  up  and  made 
presentable,  and  the  Brigadier,  who  saw  him- 
self a  Knight  in  three  months,  was  the  only 
soul  who  was  complimentary  to  them.  The 
Colonel  was  heart-broken  and  the  officers  were 
savage  and  sullen. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Brigadier,  "  they  are  young 
troops  of  course,  and  it  was  not  unnatural  that 
they  should  retire  in  disorder  for  a  bit." 

"  Oh,  my  only  Aunt  Maria  !  "  murmured  a 
junior  Staff  Officer.  "  Retire  in  disorder !  It 
was  a  bally  run  1 " 

"  But  they  came  again  as.  we  all  know," 
cooed  the  Brigadier,  the  Colonel's  ashy-white 
face  before  him,  "  and  they  behaved  as  well 
as  could  possibly  be  expected.  Behaved 
beautifully,  indeed.  I  was  watching  them. 
It's  not  a  matter  to  take  to  heart,  Colonel. 
As  some  German  General  said  of  his  men, 
they  wanted  to  be  shooted  over  a  little, 
that  was  all."  To  himself  he  said  : — "  Now 
they're  blooded  I  can  give  'em  responsible 


The  Drums  of  the  Fore  and  Aft   139 

work.  It's  as  well  that  they  got  what  they 
did.  'Teach  'em  more  than  half  a  dozen  rifle 
flirtations,  that  will — later — run  alone  and 
bite.  Poor  old  Colonel,  though." 

All  that  afternoon  the  heliograph  winked 
and  flickered  on  the  hills,  striving  to  tell  the 
good  news  to  a  mountain  forty  miles  away. 
And  in  the  evening  there  arrived,  dusty,  sweat- 
ing, and  sore,  a  misguided  Correspondent  who 
had  gone  out  to  assist  at  a  trumpery  village- 
burning  and  who  had  read  off  the  message 
from  afar,  cursing  his  luck  the  while. 

"  Let's  have  the  details  somehow — as  full 
as  ever  you  can,  please.  It's  the  first  time 
I've  ever  been  left  this  campaign,"  said  the 
Correspondent  to  the  Brigadier;  and  the 
Brigadier,  nothing  loath,  told  him  how  an 
Army  of  Communication  had  been  crumpled 
up,  destroyed,  and  all  but  annihilated  by  the 
craft,  strategy,  wisdom,  and  foresight  of  the 
Brigadier. 

But  some  say,  and  among  these  be  the 
Gurkhas  who  watched  on  the  hillside,  that 
that  battle  was  won  by  Jakin  and  Lew,  whose 
little  bodies  were  borne  up  just  in  time  to  fit 
two  gaps  at  the  head  of  the  big  ditch-grave 
for  the  dead  under  the  heights  of  Jagai. 


WITHOUT    BENEFIT    OF 
CLERGY, 


"  BUT  if  it  be  a  girl  ?  " 

"  Lord  of  my  life,  it  cannot  be  1  I  have 
prayed  for  so  many  nights,  and  sent  gifts  to 
Sheikh  Badl's  shrine  so  often,  that  I  know 
God  will  give  us  a  son — a  man-child  that  shall 
grow  into  a  man.  Think  of  this  and  be  glad. 
My  mother  shall  be  his  mother  till  I  can  take 
him  again,  and  the  mullah  of  the  Pattan 
Mosque  shall  cast  his  nativity — God  send  he 
be  born  in  an  auspicious  hour ! — and  then, 
and  then  thou  wilt  never  weary  of  me,  thy 
slave." 

"  Since  when  hast  thou  been  a  slave,  my 
queen  ? " 

"  Since  the  beginning — till  this  mercy  came 
to  me.  How  could  I  be  sure  of  thy  love  when 
I  knew  that  I  had  been  bought  with  silver  ?  " 

"  Nay,  that  was  the  dowry.  I  paid  it  to 
thy  mother." 

"  And  she  has  buried  it,  and  sits  upon  it  all 
day  long  like  a  hen.  What  talk  is  yours  of 
140 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  141 

dowry  ?  I  was  bought  as  though  I  had  been 
a  Lucknow  dancing-girl  instead  of  a  child." 

"  Art  thou  sorry  for  the  sale  ?  " 

"  I  have  sorrowed  ;  but  to-day  I  am  glad. 
Thou  wilt  never  cease  to  love  me  now  ?  An- 
swer, my  king." 

"  Never — never.     No." 

"  Not  even  though  the  mem-log — the  white 
women  of  thy  own  blood — love  thee  ?  And 
remember,  I  have  watched  them  driving  in 
the  evening;  they  are  very  fair." 

"  I  have  seen  fire-balloons  by  the  hundred, 
I  have  seen  the  moon,  and — then  I  saw  no 
more  fire-balloons." 

Ameera  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed. 
"  Very  good  talk,"  she  said.  Then,  with  an 
assumption  of  great  stateliness :  "  It  is  enough. 
Thou  hast  my  permission  to  depart — if  thou 
wilt." 

The  man  did  not  move.  He  was  sitting  on 
a  low  red-lacquered  couch  in  a  room  fur- 
nished only  with  a  blue-and-white  floor-cloth, 
some  rugs,  and  a  very  complete  collection  of 
native  cushions.  At  his  feet  sat  a  woman  of 
sixteen,  and  she  was  all  but  all  the  world  in 
his  eyes.  By  every  rule  and  law  she  should 
have  been  otherwise,  for  he  was  an  English- 
man and  she  a  Mussulman's  daughter,  bought 
two  years  before  from  her  mother,  who,  being 
left  without  money,  would  have  sold  Ameera, 
shrieking  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  if  the 
price  had  been  sufficient 


142         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

It  was  a  contract  entered  into  with  a  light 
heart.  But  even  before  the  girl  had  reached 
her  bloom  she  came  to  fill  the  greater  portion 
of  John  Holden's  life.  For  her  and  the  with- 
ered hag  her  mother  he  had  taken  a  little 
house  overlooking  the  great  red-walled  city, 
and  found,  when  the  marigolds  had  sprung  up 
by  the  well  in  the  courtyard,  and  Ameera  had 
established  herself  according  to  her  own  ideas 
of  comfort,  and  her  mother  had  ceased  grum- 
bling at  the  inadequacy  of  the  cooking-places, 
the  distance  from  the  daily  market,  and  mat- 
ters of  housekeeping  in  general,  that  the 
house  was  to  him  his  home.  Any  one  could 
enter  his  bachelor's  bungalow  by  day  or  night, 
and  the  life  that  he  led  there  was  an  unlovely 
one.  In  the  house  in  the  city  his  feet  only 
could  pass  beyond  the  outer  courtyard  to  the 
women's  rooms;  and  when  the  big  wooden 
gate  was  bolted  behind  him  he  was  king  in 
his  own  territory,  with  Ameera  for  queen. 
And  there  was  going  to  be  added  to  this  king- 
dom a  third  person,  whose  arrival  Holden 
felt  inclined  to  resent.  It  interfered  with  his 
perfect  happiness.  It  disarranged  the  or- 
derly peace  of  the  house  that  was  his  own. 
But  Ameera  was  wild  with  delight  at  the 
thought  of  it,  and  her  mother  not  less  so. 
The  love  of  a  man,  and  particularly  a  white 
man,  was  at  the  best  an  inconstant  affair, 
but  it  might,  both  women  argued,  be  held  fast 
by  a  baby's  hands.  "And  then,"  Ameerq 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  143 

would  always  say — "  then  he  will  never  care 
for  the  white  mem-log,  I  hate  them  all — I 
hate  them  all  1  " 

"  He  will  go  back  to  his  own  people  in 
time,"  said  the  mother,  "  but,  by  the  blessing 
of  God,  that  time  is  yet  afar  off." 

Holden  sat  silent  on  the  couch,  thinking  of 
the  future,  and  his  thoughts  were  not  pleasant. 
The  drawbacks  of  a  double  life  are  manifold. 
The  government,  with  singular  care,  had  or- 
dered him  out  of  the  station  for  a  fortnight  on 
special  duty,  in  the  place  of  a  man  who  was 
watching  by  the  bedside  of  a  sick  wife.  The 
verbal  notification  of  the  transfer  had  been 
edged  by  a  cheerful  remark  that  Holden 
ought  to  think  himself  lucky  in  being  a  bach- 
elor and  a  free  man.  He  came  to  break  the 
news  to  Ameera. 

"  It  is  not  good,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  but  it 
is  not  all  bad.  There  is  my  mother  here,  and 
no  harm  will  come  to  me — unless,  indeed,  I 
die  of  pure  joy.  Go  thou  to  thy  work,  and 
think  no  troublesome  thoughts.  When  the 
days  are  done,  I  believe  .  .  .  nay,  I  am  sure. 
And — and  then  I  shall  lay  him  in  thy  arms, 
and  thou  wilt  love  me  forever.  The  train 
goes  to-night — at  midnight,  is  it  not?  Go 
now,  and  do  not  let  thy  heart  be  heavy  by 
cause  of  me.  But  thou  wilt  not  delay  in  re- 
turning 1  Thou  wilt  not  stay  on  the  road  to 
talk  to  the  bold  white  mem-log  !  Come  back 
to  me  swiftly,  my  life  I  " 


144         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

As  he  left  the  courtyard  to  reach  his  horse 
that  was  tethered  to  the  gate-post,  Holden 
spoke  to  the  white-haired  old  watchman  who 
guarded  the  house,  and  bid  him  under  certain 
contingencies  despatch  the  filled-up  telegraph 
form  that  Holden  gave  him.  It  was  all  that 
could  be  done,  and,  with  the  sensations  of  a 
man  who  has  attended  his  own  funeral,  Holden 
went  away  by  the  night  mail  to  his  exile. 
Every  hour  of  the  day  he  dreaded  the  arrival 
of  the  telegram,  and  every  hour  of  the  night 
he  pictured  to  himself  the  death  of  Ameera. 
In  consequence,  his  work  for  the  state  was 
not  of  first-rate  quality,  nor  was  his  temper 
toward  his  colleagues  of  the  most  amiable. 
The  fortnight  ended  without  a  sign  from  his 
home,  and,  torn  to  pieces  by  his  anxieties, 
Holden  returned  to  be  swallowed  up  for  two 
precious  hours  by  a  dinner  at  the  club,  where- 
in he  heard,  as  a  man  hears  in  a  swoon,  voices 
telling  him  how  execrably  he  had  performed 
the  other  man's  duties,  and  how  he  had  en- 
deared himself  to  all  his  associates.  Then  he 
fled  on  horseback  through  the  night  with  his 
heart  in  his  mouth.  There  was  no  answer  at 
first  to  his  blows  on  the  gate,  and  he  had  just 
wheeled  his  horse  round  to  kick  it  in,  when 
Pir  Khan  appeared  with  a  lantern  and  held 
his  stirrup. 

"  Has  aught  occurred  ?  "  said  Holden. 

"  The  news  does  not  come  from  my  mouth, 
Protector  of  the  Poor,  but — "  He  held  out 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  145 

his  shaking  hand,  as  befitted  the  bearer  of 
good  news  who  is  entitled  to  a  reward. 

Holden  hurried  through  the  courtyard, 
A  light  burned  in  the  upper  room.  His 
horse  neighed  in  the  gateway,  and  he  heard 
a  pin-pointed  wail  that  sent  all  the  blood  into 
the  apple  of  his  throat.  It  was  a  new 
voice,  but  it  did  not  prove  that  Ameera  was 
alive. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  he  called  up  the  narrow 
brick  staircase. 

There  was  a  cry  of  delight  from  Ameera, 
and  then  the  voice  of  her  mother,  tremulous 
with  old  age  and  pride  :  "  We  be  two  women, 
and — the — man — thy  son." 

On  the  threshold  of  the  room  Holden 
stepped  on  a  naked  dagger  that  was  laid  there 
to  avert  ill-luck,  and  it  broke  at  the  hilt  under 
his  impatient  heel. 

"  God  is  great  I "  cooed  Ameera  in  the 
half-light.  "  Thou  hast  taken  his  misfortunes 
on  thy  head." 

"  Aye,  but  how  is  it  with  thee,  life  of  my 
life  ?  Old  woman,  how  is  it  with  her  ? " 

"  She  has  forgotten  her  sufferings  for  joy 
that  the  child  is  born.  There  is  no  harm  ; 
but  speak  softly,"  said  the  mother. 

"  It  only  needed  thy  presence  to  make  me 
all  well,"  said  Ameera.  "My  king,  thou 
hast  been  very  long  away.  What  gifts  hast 
thou  for  me  ?  Ah  1  ah  I  It  is  I  that  bring 
gifts  this  time.  Look,  my  life,  look  I  Was 
10 


146         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

there  ever  such  a  babe  ?  Nay,  I  am  too  weak 
even  to  clear  my  arm  from  him." 

"  Rest,  then,  and  do  not  talk.  I  am  here, 
bachheri  "  (little  woman). 

"  Well  said,  for  there  is  a  bond  and  a  heel- 
rope  [peecharee]  between  us  now  that  nothing 
can  break.  Look — canst  thou  see  in  this 
light  ?  He  is  without  spot  or  blemish.  Never 
was  such  a  man-child.  Ya  Illah  I  he  shall  be 
a  pundit — no,  a  trooper  of  the  queen.  And, 
my  life,  dost  thou  love  me  as  well  as  ever, 
though  I  am  faint  and  sick  and  worn  ?  Answer 
truly." 

"  Yea.  I  love  as  I  have  loved,  with  all  my 
soul.  Lie  still,  pearl,  and  rest." 

"  Then  do  not  go.  Sit  by  my  side  here — 
so.  Mother,  the  lord  of  this  house  needs  a 
cushion.  Bring  it."  There  was  an  almost 
imperceptible  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
new  life  that  lay  in  the  hollow  of  Ameera's 
arm.  "  Aho  1 "  she  said,  her  voice  breaking 
with  love.  "  The  babe  is  a  champion  from 
his  birth.  He  is  kicking  me  in  the  side  with 
mighty  kicks.  Was  there  ever  such  a  babe  ? 
And  he  is  ours  to  us — thine  and  mine.  Put 
thy  hand  on  his  head,  but  carefully,  for  he  is 
very  young,  and  men  are  unskilled  in  such 
matters." 

Very  cautiously  Holden  touched  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  the  downy  head. 

"  He  is  of  the  Faith,"  said  Ameera ;  "  for, 
lying  here  in  the  night-watches,  I  whispered 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  147 

the  Call  to  Prayer  and  the  Profession  of  Faith 
into  his  ears.  And  it  is  most  marvelous  that 
he  was  born  upon  a  Friday,  as  I  was  born. 
Be  careful  of  him,  my  life ;  but  he  can  almost 
grip  with  his  hands." 

Holden  found  one  helpless  little  hand  that 
closed  feebly  on  his  ringer.  And  the  clutch 
ran  through  his  limbs  till  it  settled  about  his 
heart.  Till  then  his  sole  thought  had  been 
for  Ameera.  He  began  to  realize  that  there 
was  some  one  else  in  the  world,  but  he  could 
not  feel  that  it  was  a  veritable  son  with  a  soul. 
He  sat  down  to  think,  and  Ameera  dozed 
lightly. 

"  Get  hence,  sahib,"  said  her  mother,  under 
her  breath.  "  It  is  not  good  that  she  should 
find  you  here  on  waking.  She  must  be  still." 

"  I  go,"  said  Holden,  submissively.  "  Here 
be  rupees.  See  that  my  baba  gets  fat  and 
finds  all  that  he  needs." 

The  chink  of  the  silver  roused  Ameera. 
"  I  am  his  mother,  and  no  hireling,"  she  said, 
weakly.  "  Shall  I  look  to  him  more  or  less 
for  the  sake  of  money  ?  Mother,  give  it  back. 
I  have  borne  my  lord  a  son." 

The  deep  sleep  of  weakness  came  upon  her 
almost  before  the  sentence  was  completed. 
Holden  went  down  to  the  courtyard  very 
softly,  with  his  heart  at  ease.  Pir  Khan,  the 
old  watchman,  was  chuckling  with  delight 

"  This  house  is  now  complete,"  he  said, 
and  without  further  comment  thrust  into  Hoi- 


148         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

den's  hands  the  hilt  of  a  saber  worn  man/ 
years  ago,  when  Pir  Khan  served  the  queen 
in  the  police.  The  bleat  of  a  tethered  goat 
came  from  the  well-curb. 

"  There  be  two,"  said  Pir  Khan—"  two 
goats  of  the  best.  I  bought  them,  and  they 
cost  much  money ;  and  since  there  is  no 
birth-party  assembled,  their  flesh  will  be  all 
mine.  Strike  carefully,  sahib.  'Tis  an  ill-bal- 
anced saber  at  the  best.  Wait  till  they  raise 
their  heads  from  cropping  the  marigolds." 

"  And  why  ?  "  said  Holden,  bewildered. 

"  For  the  birth  sacrifice.  What  else  ? 
Otherwise  the  child,  being  unguarded  from 
fate,  may  die.  The  Protector  of  the  Poor 
knows  the  fitting  words  to  be  said." 

Holden  had  learned  them  once,  with  little 
thought  that  he  would  ever  say  them  in 
earnest.  The  touch  of  the  cold  saber-hilt  in 
his  palm  turned  suddenly  to  the  clinging  grip 
of  the  child  up-stairs — the  child  that  was  his 
own  son — and  a  dread  of  loss  rilled  him. 

"  Strike  1  "  said  Pir  Khan.  "  Never  life 
came  into  the  world  but  life  was  paid  for  it. 
See,  the  goats  have  raised  their  heads.  Now  1 
With  a  drawing  cut  1  " 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  Holden  cut 
twice  as  he  muttered  the  Mohammedan  prayer 
that  runs  :  "  Almighty  I  In  place  of  this  my 
son  I  offer  life  for  life,  blood  for  blood,  head 
for  head,  bone  for  bone,  hair  for  hair,  skin  for 
skin."  The  waiting  horse  snorted  and  bound' 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  149 

ed  in  his  pickets  at  the  smell  of  the  raw  blood 
that  spurted  over  Holden's  riding-boots. 

"Well  smitten  I  "  said  Pir  Khan,  wiping  the 
saber.  "  A  swordsman  was  lost  in  thee.  Go 
with  a  light  heart,  heaven  born.  I  am  thy 
servant  and  the  servant  of  thy  son.  May  the 
Presence  live  a  thousand  years,  and  .  .  .  the 
flesh  of  the  goats  is  all  mine  ?  " 

Pir  Khan  drew  back  richer  by  a  month's 
pay.  Holden  swung  himself  into  the  saddle 
and  rode  off  through  the  low-hanging  wood 
smoke  of  the  evening.  He  was  full  of  riotous 
exultation,  alternating  with  a  vast  vague  ten- 
derness directed  toward  no  particular  object, 
that  made  him  choke  as  he  bent  over  the  neck 
of  his  uneasy  horse.  "  I  never  felt  like  this  in 
my  life,"  he  thought.  "  I'll  go  to  the  club  and 
pull  myself  together." 

A  game  of  pool  was  beginning,  and  the 
room  was  full  of  men.  Holden  entered,  eager 
to  get  to  the  light  and  the  company  of  his 
fellows,  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  : 

" '  In  Baltimore  a-walking,  a  lady  I  did  meet.'  " 

"  Did  you  ?  "  said  the  club  secretary  from 
his  corner.  "  Did  she  happen  to  tell  you  that 
your  boots  were  wringing  wet  ?  Great  good- 
ness, man,  it's  blood !  " 

"  Bosh  1 "  said  Holden,  picking  his  cue  from 
the  rack.  "  May  I  cut  in  ?  It's  dew.  I've 
been  riding  through  high  crops.  My  faith  I 
my  boots  are  in  a  mess,  though  1 


150         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  '  And  if  it  be  a  girl,  she  shall  wear  a  wedding-ring; 
And  if  it  be  a  boy,  he  shall  fight  for  his  king ; 
With  his  dirk  and  his  cap,  and  his  little  jacket  blue, 
He  shall  walk  the  quarter-deck — ' " 

"  Yellow  and  blue — green  next  player,"  said 
the  marker,  monotonously. 

"  '  He  shall  walk  the  quarter-deck  ' — am  I 
green,  marker  ? — '  he  shall  walk  the  quarter- 
deck ' — ouch  1  that's  a  bad  shot  1 — '  as  his 
daddy  used  to  do  1  " 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  have  anything  to 
crow  about,"  said  a  zealous  junior  civilian, 
acidly.  "  The  government  is  not  exactly 
pleased  with  your  work  when  you  relieved 
Sanders." 

"  Does  that  mean  a  wigging  from  head- 
quarters ? "  said  Holden,  with  an  abstracted 
smile.  "  I  think  I  can  stand  it." 

The  talk  beat  up  round  the  ever-fresh  sub- 
ject of  each  man's  work,  and  steadied  Holden 
till  it  was  time  to  go  to  his  dark,  empty  bun- 
galow, where  his  butler  received  him  as  one 
who  knew  all  his  affairs.  Holden  remained 
awake  for  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and 
his  dreams  were  pleasant  ones. 


II. 

"  How  old  is  he  now  ?  " 
"  Ya  illah  !     What  a  man's  question  1     He 
is  all  but  six  weeks  old  ;  and  on  this  night  I 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  151 

go  up  to  the  housetop  with  thee,  my  life,  to 
count  the  stars.  For  that  is  auspicious.  And 
he  was  born  on  a  Friday,  under  the  sign  of 
the  Sun,  and  it  has  been  told  to  me  that  he 
will  outlive  us  both  and  get  wealth.  Can  we 
wish  for  aught  better,  beloved  ?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  better.  Let  us  go  up  to 
the  roof,  and  thou  shalt  count  the  stars — but 
a  few  only,  for  the  sky  is  heavy  with  cloud." 

"  The  winter  rains  are  late,  and  maybe  they 
come  out  of  season.  Come,  before  all  the 
stars  are  hid.  I  have  put  on  my  richest 
jewels." 

"  Thou  hast  forgotten  the  best  of  all." 

"  Ai  1  Ours.  He  comes  also.  He  has 
never  yet  seen  the  skies." 

Ameera  climbed  the  narrow  staircase  that 
let  to  the  flat  roof.  The  child,  placid  and  un- 
winking, lay  in  the  hollow  of  her  right  arm, 
gorgeous  in  silver-fringed  muslin,  with  a  small 
skull-cap  on  his  head.  Ameera  wore  all  that 
she  valued  most.  The  diamond  nose-stud 
that  takes  the  place  of  the  Western  patch  in 
drawing  attention  to  the  curve  of  the  nostril, 
the  gold  ornament  in  the  center  of  the  fore- 
head studded  with  tallow-drop  emeralds  and 
flawed  rubies,  the  heavy  circlet  of  beaten  gold 
that  was  fastened  round  her  neck  by  the  soft- 
ness of  the  pure  metal,  and  the  chinking  curb- 
patterned  silver  anklets  hanging  low  over  the 
rosy  ankle-bone.  She  was  dressed  in  jade- 
green  muslin,  as  befitted  a  daughter  of  the 


152         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Faith,  and  from  shoulder  to  elbow  and  elbow 
to  wrist  ran  bracelets  of  silver  tied  with  floss 
silk,  frail  glass  bangles  slipped  over  the  wrist 
in  proof  of  the  slenderness  of  the  hand,  and 
certain  heavy  gold  bracelets  that  had  no  part 
in  her  country's  ornaments,  but  since  they 
were  Holden's  gift,  and  fastened  with  a  cun- 
ning European  snap,  delighted  her  immensely. 

They  sat  down  by  the  low  white  parapet  of 
the  roof,  overlooking  the  city  and  its  lights. 

"  They  are  happy  down  there,"  said 
Ameera.  "  But  I  do  not  think  that  they  are 
as  happy  as  we.  Nor  do  I  think  the  white 
mem-log  are  as  happy.  And  thou  ?  " 

"  I  know  they  are  not." 

"  How  dost  thou  know  ?  " 

"They  give  their  children  over  to  the 
nurses." 

"  I  have  never  seen  that,"  said  Ameera, 
with  a  sigh ;  "  nor  do  I  wish  to  see.  Ahi  1  " 
• — she  dropped  her  head  on  Holden's  shoulder 
— "  I  have  counted  forty  stars,  and  I  am 
tired.  Look  at  the  child,  love  of  my  life.  He 
is  counting,  too." 

The  baby  was  staring  with  round  eyes  at 
the  dark  of  the  heavens.  Ameera  placed  him 
in  Holden's  arms,  and  he  lay  there  without  a 
cry. 

"  What  shall  we  call  him  among  ourselves  ? " 
she  said.  "  Look  1  Art  thou  ever  tired  of 
looking  ?  He  carries  thy  very  eyes  1  But 
the  mouth — " 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  153 

"  Is  thine,  most  dear.  Who  should  know 
better  than  I  ?  " 

"  'Tis  such  a  feeble  mouth.  Oh,  so  small  I 
And  yet  it  holds  my  heart  between  its  lips. 
Give  him  to  me  now.  He  has  been  too  long 
away." 

"  Nay,  let  him  lie  ;  he  has  not  yet  begun  to 
cry." 

"  When  he  cries  thou  wilt  give  him  back, 
eh  ?  What  a  man  of  mankind  thou  art  1  If 
he  cried,  he  were  only  the  dearer  to  me.  But, 
my  life,  what  little  name  shall  we  give  him  ? " 

The  small  body  lay  close  to  Holden's 
heart.  It  was  utterly  helpless  and  very  soft. 
He  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  for  fear  of 
crushing  it.  The  caged  green  parrot,  that  is 
regarded  as  a  sort  of  guardian  spirit  in  most 
native  households,  moved  on  its  perch  and 
fluttered  a  drow.cy  wing. 

"  There  is  .  the  answer,"  said  Holden. 
"  Mian  Mittu  has  spoken.  He  shall  be  the 
parrot.  When  he  is  ready  he  will  talk  might- 
ily, and  run  about.  Mian  Mittu  is  the  parrot 
in  thy — in  the  Mussulman  tongue,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Why  put  me  so  far  off  ?  "  said  Ameera, 
fretfully.  "  Let  it  be  like  unto  some  English 
name — but  not  wholly.  For  he  is  mine." 

"Then  call  him  Tota,  for  that  is  likest 
English." 

"  Aye,  Tota  ;  and  that  is  still  the  parrot. 
Forgive  me,  my  lord,  for  a  minute  ago ;  but, 
in  truth,  he  is  too  little  to  wear  all  the  weight 


1 54         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

of  Mian  Mittu  for  name.  He  shall  be  Tota 
— our  Tota  to  us.  Hearest  thou,  oh,  small 
one  ?  Littlest,  thou  art  Tota." 

She  touched  the  child's  cheek,  and,  he 
waking,  wailed,  and  it  was  necessary  to  return 
him  to  his  mother,  who  soothed  him  with  the 
wonderful  rhyme  of  "  Art  koko,  Ja  rt  koko  !  " 
which  says : 

"  Oh,  crow  !     Go  crow  !     Baby's  sleeping  sound, 
And  the  wild  plums  grow  in  the  jungle,  only  a  penny 

a  pound — 
Only  a  penny  a  pound,    Baba—on\y  a    penny    a 

pound." 

Reassured  many  times  as  to  the  price  of 
those  plums,  Tota  cuddled  himself  down  to 
sleep.  The  two  sleek  white  well-bullocks  in 
the  courtyard  were  steadily  chewing  the  cud 
of  their  evening  meal ;  old  Pir  Khan  squatted 
at  the  head  of  Holden's  horse,  his  police  saber 
across  his  knees,  pulling  drowsily  at  a  big 
water-pipe  that  croaked  like  a  bull-frog  in 
a  pond.  Ameera's  mother  sat  spinning  in  the 
lower  veranda,  and  the  wooden  gate  was  shut 
and  barred.  The  music  of  a  marriage  proces- 
sion came  to  the  roof  above  the  gentle  hum  of 
the  city,  and  a  string  of  flying  foxes  crossed 
the  face  of  the  low  moon. 

"  I  have  prayed,"  said  Ameera,  after  a  long 
pause,  with  her  chin  in  her  hand — "  I  have 
prayed  for  two  things.  First,  that  I  may  die 
in  thy  stead,  if  thy  death  is  demanded ;  and 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  155 

in  the  second,  that  I  may  die  in  the  place  of 
the  child.  I  have  prayed  to  the  Prophet  and 
to  Beebee  Miriam.*  Thinkest  thou  either 
will  hear  ? " 

"  From  thy  lips  who  would  not  hear  the 
lightest  word  ?  " 

"  I  asked  for  straight  talk,  and  thou  hast 
given  me  sweet  talk.  Will  my  prayers  be 
heard  ? " 

"  How  can  I  say  ?     God  is  very  good." 

"  Of  that  I  am  not  sure.  Listen  now. 
When  I  die  or  the  child  dies,  what  is  thy 
fate  ?  Living,  thou  wilt  return  to  the  bold 
white  mem-log,  for  kind  calls  to  kind." 

"  Not  always." 

"  With  a  woman,  no.  With  a  man  it  is 
otherwise.  Thou  wilt  in  this  life,  later  on, 
go  back  to  thine  own  folk.  That  I  could  al- 
most endure,  for  I  should  be  dead.  But  in  thy 
very  death  thou  wilt  be  taken  away  to  a  strange 
place  and  a  paradise  that  I  do  not  know." 

"  Will  it  be  paradise  ?  " 

"  Surely ;  for  what  God  would  harm  thee  ? 
But  we  two — I  and  the  child — shall  be  else- 
where, and  we  cannot  come  to  thee,  nor  canst 
thou  come  to  us.  In  the  old  days,  before 
the  child  was  born,  I  did  not  think  of  these 
things ;  but  now  I  think  of  them  perpetu- 
ally. It  is  very  hard  talk." 

"  It  will  fall  as  it  will  fall.     To-morrow  we 

•  The  Virgin  Mary. 


^156         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

do  not  know,  but  to-day  and  love  we  know 
well.  Surely  we  are  happy  now." 

"  So  happy  that  it  were  well  to  make  our  hap- 
piness assured.  And  thy  Beebee  Miriam 
should  listen  to  me ;  for  she  is  also  a  woman. 
But  then  she  would  envy  me —  It  is  not  seemly 
for  men  to  worship  a  woman." 

Holden  laughed  aloud  at  Ameera's  little 
spasm  of  jealousy. 

"  Is  it  not  seemly  ?  Why  didst  thou  not 
turn  me  from  worship  of  thee,  then  ?  " 

"  Thou  a  worshiper  1  And  of  me !  My 
king,  for  all  thy  sweet  words,  well  I  know  that 
I  am  thy  servant  and  thy  slave,  and  the  dust 
under  thy  feet.  And  I  would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  See  1 " 

Before  Holden  could  prevent  her  she 
stooped  forward  and  touched  his  feet ;  re- 
covering herself  with  a  little  laugh,  she  hugged 
Tota  closer  to  her  bosom.  Then,  almost  sav- 
agely : 

"  Is  it  true  that  the  bold  white  mem-log  live 
for  three  times  the  length  of  my  life  ?  Is  it 
true  that  they  make  their  marriages  not  before 
they  are  old  women  ?  " 

"  They  marry  as  do  others — when  they  are 
women." 

"  That  I  know,  but  they  wed  when  they  are 
twenty-five.  Is  that  true  ?  " 

"  That  is  true." 

"  Ya  illah  !  At  twenty-five  Who  would 
of  his  own  will  take  a  wife  even  of  eighteen  ? 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  157 

She  is  a  woman — aging  every  hour.  Twenty- 
five  I  I  shall  be  an  old  woman  at  that  age, 
and —  Those  mem-log  remain  young  forever. 
How  I  hate  them  1  " 

"  What  have  they  to  do  with  us  ? " 

"  I  cannot  tell.  I  know  only  that  there  may 
now  be  alive  on  this  earth  a  woman  ten  years 
older  than  I  who  may  come  to  thee  and  take 
thy  love  ten  years  after  I  am  an  old  woman, 
grayheaded,  and  the  nurse  of  Tola's  son. 
That  is  unjust  and  evil.  They  should  die  too." 

"  Now,  for  all  thy  years  thou  art  a  child, 
and  shalt  be  picked  up  and  carried  down  the 
staircase." 

"  Tota  1  Have  a  care  for  Tota,  my  lord  1 
Thou,  at  least,  art  as  foolish  as  any  babe  I  " 
Ameera  tucked  Tota  out  of  harm's  way 
in  the  hollow  in  her  neck,  and  was  carried 
down-stairs,  laughing,  in  Holden's  arms,  while 
Tota  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled,  after  the 
manner  of  the  lesser  angels. 

He  was  a  silent  infant,  and  almost  before 
Holden  could  realize  that  he  was  in  the  world, 
developed  into  a  small  gold-colored  godling 
and  unquestioned  despot  of  the  house  over- 
looking the  city.  Those  were  months  of  ab- 
solute happiness  to  Holden  and  Ameera — 
happiness  withdrawn  from  the  world,  shut 
in  behind  the  wooden  gate  that  Pir  Khan 
guarded.  By  day  Holden  did  his  work,  with 
an  immense  pity  for  such  as  were  not  so  for- 
tunate as  himself,  and  a  sympathy  for  small 


158         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

children  that  amazed  and  amused  many 
mothers  at  the  little  station  gatherings.  At 
nightfall  he  returned  to  Ameera — Ameera  full 
of  the  wondrous  doings  of  Tota  :  how  he  had 
been  seen  to  clap  his  hands  together  and  move 
his  fingers  with  intention  and  purpose,  which 
was  manifestly  a  miracle ;  how  later  he  had 
of  his  own  initiative  crawled  out  of  his  low 
bedstead  on  to  the  floor,  and  swayed  on  both 
feet  for  the  space  of  three  breaths.  "  And 
they  were  long  breaths,  for  my  heart  stood 
still  with  delight,"  said  Ameera. 

Then  he  took  the  beasts  into  his  councils — 
the  well-bullocks,  the  little  gray  squirrels,  the 
mongoose  that  lived  in  a  hole  near  the  well, 
and  especially  Mian  Mittu,  the  parrot,  whose 
tail  he  grievously  pulled,  and  Mian  Mittu 
screamed  till  Ameera  and  Holden  arrived. 

"  Oh,  villain  1  Child  of  strength !  This  to 
thy  brother  on  the  house-top  1  Tobah,  tobah  / 
Fy  1  fy  1  But  I  know  a  charm  to  make  him 
wise  as  Suleiman  and  Aflatoun.*  Now  look," 
said  Ameera.  She  drew  from  an  embroidered 
bag  a  handful  of  almonds.  "  See  !  we  count 
seven.  In  the  name  of  God  1 "  She  placed 
Mian  Mittu,  very  angry  and  rumpled,  on  the 
top  of  his  cage,  and,  seating  herself  between 
the  babe  and  the  bird,  cracked  and  peeled  an 
almond  less  white  than  her  teeth.  "  This  is 
a  true  charm,  my  life;  and  do  not  laugh. 
See  1  I  give  the  parrot  one  half  and  Tota  the 
*  Solomon  and  Plato. 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  159 

other."  Mian  Mittu,  with  careful  beak,  took 
his  share  from  between  Ameera's  lips,  and  she 
kissed  the  other  half  into  the  mouth  of  the 
child,  who  eat  it  slowly,  with  wondering  eyes. 
"  This  I  will  do  each  day  of  seven,  and  without 
doubt  he  who  is  ours  will  be  a  bold  speaker 
and  wise.  Eh,  Tota,  what  wilt  thou  be  when 
thou  art  a  man  and  I  am  gray-headed  ? " 
Tota  tucked  his  fat  legs  into  adorable  creases. 
He  could  crawl,  but  he  was  not  going  to  waste 
the  spring  of  his  youth  in  idle  speech.  He 
wanted  Mian  Mittu's  tail  to  tweak. 

When  he  was  advanced  to  the  dignity  of  a 
silver  belt — which,  with  a  magic  square  en- 
graved on  silver  and  hung  round  his  neck, 
made  up  the  greater  part  of  his  clothing — he 
staggered  on  a  perilous  journey  down  the 
garden  to  Pir  Khan,  and  proffered  him  all  his 
jewels  in  exchange  for  one  little  ride  on  Hoi- 
den's  horse.  He  had  seen  his  mother's  mother 
chaffering  with  pedlers  in  the  veranda.  Pir 
Khan  wept,  set  the  untried  feet  on  his  own 
gray  head  in  sign  of  fealty,  and  brought  the 
bold  adventurer  to  his  mother's  arms,  vowing 
that  Tota  would  be  a  leader  of  men  ere  his 
beard  was  grown. 

One  hot  evening,  while  he  sat  on  the  roof 
between  his  father  and  mother,  watching  the 
never-ending  warfare  of  the  kites  that  the  city 
boys  flew,  he  demanded  a  kite  of  his  own, 
with  Pir  Khan  to  fly  it,  because  he  had  a  fear 
of  dealing  with  anything  larger  than  himself  ; 


160        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

and  when  Holden  called  him  a  "  spark,"  he 
rose  to  his  feet  and  answered  slowly,  in  defense 
of  his  new-found  individuality :  "  Hum  'park 
nahin  hai.  Hum  admi  fiat."  (I  am  no  spark, 
but  a  man.) 

The  protest  made  Holden  choke,  and  devote 
himself  very  seriously  to  a  consideration  of 
Tota's  future. 

He  need  hardly  have  taken  the  trouble. 
The  delight  of  that  life  was  too  perfect  to 
endure.  Therefore  it  was  taken  away,  as 
many  things  are  taken  away  in  India,  suddenly 
and  without  warning.  The  little  lord  of  the 
house,  as  Pir  Khan  called  him,  grew  sorrowful 
and  complained  of  pains,  who  had  never 
known  the  meaning  of  pain.  Ameera,  wild 
with  terror,  watched  him  through  the  night, 
and  in  the  dawning  of  the  second  day  the  life 
was  shaken  out  of  him  by  fever — the  seasonal 
autumn  fever.  It  seemed  altogether  impos- 
sible that  he  could  die,  and  neither  Ameera 
nor  Holden  at  first  believed  the  evidence  of 
the  body  on  the  bedstead.  Then  Ameera 
beat  her  head  against  the  wall,  and  would 
have  flung  herself  down  the  well  in  the  garden 
had  Holden  not  restrained  her  by  main  force. 

One  mercy  only  was  granted  to  Holden. 
He  rode  to  his  office  in  broad  daylight,  and 
found  waiting  him  an  unusually  heavy  mail 
that  demanded  concentrated  attention  and 
hard  work.  He  was  not,  however,  alive  to 
this  kindness  of  the  gods. 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  161 


III. 

THE  first  shock  of  a  bullet  is  no  more  than 
a  brisk  pinch.  The  wrecked  body  does  not 
send  in  its  protest  to  the  soul  till  ten  or  fifteen 
seconds  later.  Then  comes  thirst,  throbbing, 
and  agony,  and  a  ridiculous  amount  of  scream- 
ing. Holden  realized  his  pain  slowly,  exactly 
as  he  had  realized  his  happiness,  and  with  the 
same  imperious  necessity  for  hiding  all  trace 
of  it.  In  the  beginning  he  only  felt  that  there 
had  been  a  loss,  and  that  Ameera  needed 
comforting  where  she  sat  with  her  head  on  her 
knees,  shivering  as  Mian  Mittu,  from  the 
house-top,  called  "Total  Total  Total" 
Later  all  his  world  and  the  daily  life  of  it  rose 
up  to  hurt  him.  It  was  an  outrage  that  any 
one  of  the  children  at  the  band-stand  in  the 
evening  should  be  alive  and  clamorous  when 
his  own  child  lay  dead.  It  was  more  than 
mere  pain  when  one  of  them  touched  him, 
and  stories  told  by  overfond  fathers  of  their 
children's  latest  performances  cut  him  to  the 
quick.  He  could  not  declare  his  pain.  He 
had  neither  help,  comfort,  nor  sympathy,  and 
Ameera,  at  the  end  of  each  weary  day,  would 
lead  him  through  the  hell  of  self-questioning 
reproach  which  is  reserved  for  those  who  have 
lost  a  child,  and  believe  that  with  a  little — 
just  a  little — more  care  it  might  have  been 
ii 


162         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

saved.  There  are  not  many  hells  worse  than 
this,  but  he  knows  one  who  has  sat  down 
temporarily  to  consider  whether  he  is  or  is  not 
responsible  for  the  death  of  his  wife. 

"  Perhaps,"  Ameera  would  say,  "  I  did  not 
take  sufficient  heed.  Did  I,  or  did  I  not  ? 
The  sun  on  the  roof  that  day  when  he  played 
so  long  alone,  and  I  was — ahi!  braiding  my 
hair — it  may  be  that  the  sun  then  bred  the 
fever.  If  I  had  warned  him  from  the  sun  he 
might  have  lived.  But,  oh,  my  life,  say  that 
I  am  guiltless  !  Thou  knowest  that  I  loved 
him  as  I  love  thee  1  Say  that  there  is  no 
blame  on  me,  or  I  shall  die — I  shall  die  1  " 

"  There  is  no  blame.  Before  God,  none. 
It  was  written,  and  how  could  we  do  aught  to 
save  ?  What  has  been,  has  been.  Let  it  go, 
beloved." 

"  He  was  all  my  heart  to  me.  How  can  I 
let  the  thought  go  when  my  arm  tells  me 
every  night  that  he  is  not  here.  Ahit  ahil 
Oh,  Tota,  come  back  to  me — come  back 
again,  and  let  us  be  all  together  as  it  was 
before  1  " 

"  Peace  1  peace  1  For  thine  own  sake,  and 
for  mine  also,  if  thou  lovest  me,  rest." 

"  By  this  I  know  thou  dost  not  care  ;  and 
how  shouldst  thou?  The  white  men  have 
hearts  of  stone  and  souls  of  iron.  Oh,  that  I 
had  married  a  man  of  mine  own  people — 
though  he  beat  me — and  had  never  eaten  the 
bread  of  an  alien  1 " 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  163 

"  Am  I  an  alien,  mother  of  my  son  ?  " 

"  What  else,  sahib  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  forgive  me 
— forgive  1  The  death  has  driven  me  mad. 
Thou  art  the  life  of  my  heart,  and  the  light  of 
my  eyes,  and  the  breath  of  my  life,  and — and 
I  have  put  thee  from  me,  though  it  was  but 
for  a  moment.  If  thou  goest  away,  to  whom 
shall  I  look  for  help?  Do  not  be  angry. 
Indeed,  it  was  the  pain  that  spoke,  and  not 
thy  slave." 

"  I  know — I  know.  We  be  two  who  were 
three.  The  greater  need,  therefore,  that  we 
should  be  one." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  roof,  as  of  custom. 
The  night  was  a  warm  one  in  early  spring, 
and  sheet-lightning  was  dancing  on  the  horizon 
to  a  broken  tune  played  by  far-off  thunder. 
Ameera  settled  herself  in  Holden's  arms. 

"  The  dry  earth  is  lowing  like  a  cow  for  the 
rain,  and  I — I  am  afraid.  It  was  not  like 
this  when  we  counted  the  stars.  But  thou 
lovest  me  as  much  as  before,  though  a  bond 
is  taken  away  ?  Answer." 

"  I  love  more,  because  a  new  bond  has 
come  out  of  the  sorrow  that  we  have  eaten  to- 
gether; and  that  thou  knowest." 

"  Yea,  I  know,"  said  Ameera,  in  a  very 
small  whisper.  "  But  it  is  good  to  hear  thee 
say  so,  my  life,  who  art  so  strong  to  help.  I 
will  be  a  child  no  more,  but  a  woman,  and  an 
aid  to  thee.  Listen.  Give  me  my  sitar,  and 
I  will  sing  bravely." 


164         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

She  took  the  light  silver-studded  sitar,  and 
began  a  song  of  the  great  hero  Raja  Rasalu. 
The  hand  failed  on  the  strings,  the  tune 
halted,  checked,  and  at  a  low  note  turned  off 
to  the  poor  little  nursery  rhyme  about  the 
wicked  crow : 

"  '  And  the  wild  plums  grow  in  the  jungle- 
Only  a  penny  a  pound, 
Only  a  penny  a  pound,  Baba — only — ' " 

Then  came  the  tears  and  the  piteous  rebel- 
lion against  fate,  till  she  slept,  moaning  a 
little  in  her  sleep,  with  the  right  arm  thrown 
clear  of  the  body,  as  though  it  protected 
something  that  was  not  there. 

It  was  after  this  night  that  life  became  a 
little  easier  for  Holden.  The  ever-present 
pain  of  loss  drove  him  into  his  work,  and  the 
work  repaid  him  by  filling  up  his  mind  for 
eight  or  nine  hours  a  day.  Ameera  sat  alone 
in  the  house  and  brooded,  but  grew  hap- 
pier when  she  understood  that  Holden  was 
more  at  ease,  according  to  the  custom  of 
women.  They  touched  happiness  again,  but 
this  time  with  caution. 

"  It  was  because  we  loved  Tota  that  he  died. 
The  jealousy  of  God  was  upon  us,"  said 
Ameera.  "  I  have  hung  up  a  large  black  jar 
before  our  window  to  turn  the  Evil  Eye  from 
us,  and  we  must  make  no  protestations  of  de- 
light, but  go  softly  underneath  the  stars,  lest 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  165 

God  find  us  out.  Is  that  not  good  talk,  worth- 
less one  ? " 

She  had  shifted  the  accent  of  the  word  that 
means  "  beloved,"  in  proof  of  the  sincerity  of 
her  purpose.  But  the  kiss  that  followed  the 
new  christening  was  a  thing  that  any  deity 
might  have  envied.  They  went  about  hence- 
forth saying :  "  It  is  naught — it  is  naught," 
and  hoping  that  all  the  powers  heard. 

The  powers  were  busy  on  other  things. 
They  had  allowed  thirty  million  people  four 
years  of  plenty,  wherein  men  fed  well  and  the 
crops  were  certain  and  the  birth-rate  rose 
year  by  year ;  the  districts  reported  a  purely 
agricultural  population  varying  from  nine 
hundred  to  two  thousand  to  the  square  mile  of 
the  overburdened  earth.  It  was  time  to  make 
room.  And  the  Member  of  the  Lower  Toot- 
ing, wandering  about  India  in  top-hat  and 
frock-coat,  talked  largely  of  the  benefits  of 
British  rule,  and  suggested  as  the  one  thing 
needful  the  establishment  of  duly  qualified 
electoral  system  and  a  general  bestowal  of  the 
franchise.  His  long-suffering  hosts  smiled 
and  made  him  welcome,  and  when  he  paused 
to  admire,  with  pretty  picked  words,  the 
blossom  of  the  blood-red  dhak-tree,  that  had 
flowered  untimely  for  a  sign  of  the  sickness 
that  was  coming,  they  smiled  more  than 
ever. 

It  was  the  Deputy  Commissioner  of  Kot- 
Kumharsen,  staying  at  the  club  for  a  day,  who 


1 66         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

lightly  told  a  tale  that  made  Holden's  blood 
run  cold  as  he  overheard  the  end. 

"  He  won't  bother  any  one  any  more. 
Never  saw  a  man  so  astonished  in  my  life. 
By  Jove  1  I  thought  he  meant  to  ask  a 
question  in  the  House  about  it.  Fellow-pas- 
senger in  his  ship — dined  next  him — bowled 
over  by  cholera,  and  died  in  eighteen  hours. 
You  needn't  laugh,  you  fellows.  The  Mem- 
ber for  Lower  Tooting  is  awfully  angry  about 
it ;  but  he's  more  scared.  I  think  he's  going 
to  take  his  enlightened  self  out  of  India." 

"  I'd  give  a  good  deal  if  he  were  knocked 
over.  It  might  keep  a  few  vestrymen  of  his 
kidney  to  their  parish.  But  what's  this  about 
cholera  ?  It's  full  early  for  anything  of  that 
kind,"  said  a  warden  of  an  unprofitable  salt- 
lick. 

"  Dunno,"  said  the  deputy  commissioner, 
reflectively.  "  We've  got  locusts  with  us. 
There's  sporadic  cholera  all  along  the  north — 
at  least,  we're  calling  it  sporadic  for  decency's 
sake.  The  spring  crops  are  short  in  five  dis- 
tricts, and  nobody  seems  to  know  where  the 
winter  rains  are.  It's  nearly  March  now.  I 
don't  want  to  scare  anybody,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  Nature's  going  to  audit  her  accounts 
with  a  big  red  pencil  this  summer." 

"Just  when  I  wanted  to  take  leave,  too," 
said  a  voice  across  the  room. 

"  There  won't  be  much  leave  this  year,  but 
there  ought  to  be  a  great  deal  of  promotion. 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  r6; 

I've  come  in  to  persuade  the  government  to 
put  my  pet  canal  on  the  list  of  famine-relief 
works.  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no  good. 
I  shall  get  that  canal  finished  at  last." 

"  Is  it  the  old  program,  then,"  said  Holden 
— "  famine,  fever,  and  cholera  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  1  Only  local  scarcity  and  an  un- 
usual prevalence  of  seasonal  sickness.  You'll 
find  it  all  in  the  reports  if  you  live  till  next 
year.  You're  a  lucky  chap.  You  haven't  got 
a  wife  to  put  you  out  of  harm's  way.  The  hill- 
stations  ought  to  be  full  of  women  this  year." 

"  I  think  you're  inclined  to  exaggerate  the 
talk  in  the  bazars,"  said  a  young  civilian  in 
the  secretariat.  "  Now,  I  have  observed : 

"  I  dare  say  you  have,"  said  the  deputy 
commissioner,  "  but  you're  a  great  deal  more 
to  observe,  my  son.  In  the  meantime,  I  wish  to 

observe  to  you "  And  he  drew  him  aside 

to  discuss  the  construction  of  the  canal  thrt 
was  so  dear  to  his  heart. 

Holden  went  to  his  bungalow,  and  began  tov 
understand  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  world, 
and  also  that  he  was  afraid  for  the  sake  of' 
another,  which  is  the  most  soul-satisfying  fear 
known  to  man. 

Two  months  later,  as  the  deputy  had  fore- 
told, Nature  began  to  audit  her  accounts  with- 
a  red  pencil.  On  the  heels  of  the  spring 
reapings  came  a  cry  for  bread,  and  the  gov- 
ernment, which  had  decreed  that  no  man 
should  die  of  want,  sent  wheat.  Then  came- 


i68         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

the  cholera  from  all  four  quarters  of  the 
compass.  It  struck  a  pilgrim  gathering  of 
half  a  million  at  a  sacred  shrine.  Many  died 
at  the  feet  of  their  god.  the  others  broke  and 
ran  over  the  face  of  the  land,  carrying  the 
pestilence  with  them.  It  smote  a  walled  city 
and  killed  two  hundred  a  day.  The  people 
crowded  the  trains,  hanging  on  to  the  foot- 
boards and  squatting  on  the  roofs  of  the  car- 
riages ;  and  the  cholera  followed  them,  for  at 
each  station  they  dragged  out  the  dead  and 
the  dying  on  the  platforms  reeking  of  lime-wash 
and  carbolic  acid.  They  died  by  the  road- 
side, and  the  horses  of  the  Englishmen  shied 
at  the  corpses  in  the  grass.  The  rains  did  not 
come,  and  the  earth  turned  to  iron  lest  man 
should  escape  by  hiding  in  her.  The  English 
sent  their  wives  away  to  the  Hills,  and  went 
about  their  work,  coming  forward  as  they  were 
bidden  to  fill  the  gaps  in  the  fighting  line. 
Holden,  sick  with  fear  of  losing  his  chiefest 
treasure  on  earth,  had  done  his  best  to  per- 
suade Ameera  to  go  away  with  her  mother  to 
the  Himalayas. 

"  Why  should  I  go  ? "  said  she  one  evening 
on  the  roof. 

"  There  is  sickness,  and  the  people  are 
dying,  and  all  the  white  mem-log  have  gone." 

"  All  of  them  ?  " 

"  All — unless,  perhaps,  there  remain  some 
old  scald-head  who  vexes  her  husband's  heart 
by  running  risk  of  death." 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  169 

"  Nay ;  who  stays  is  my  sister,  and  thou 
must  not  abuse  her,  for  I  will  be  a  scald-head 
too.  I  am  glad  all  the  bold  white  mem-log  are 
gone." 

"  Do  I  speak  to  a  woman  or  a  babe  ?  Go 
to  the  Hills,  and  I  will  see  to  it  that  thou 
goest  like  a  queen's  daughter.  Think,  child  I 
In  a  red-lacquered  bullock-cart,  veiled  and 
curtained,  with  brass  peacocks  upon  the  pole 
and  red-cloth  hangings.  I  will  send  two 
orderlies  for  guard,  and " 

"  Peace  1  Thou  art  the  babe  in  speaking 
thus.  What  use  are  those  toys  to  me  ?  He 
would  have  patted  the  bullocks  and  played 
with  the  housings.  For  his  sake,  perhaps — 
thou  hast  made  me  very  English — I  might 
have  gone.  Now  I  will  not.  Let  the  mem- 
log  run." 

"Their  husbands  are  sending  them,  be- 
loved." 

"Very  good  talk.  Since  when  hast  thou 
been  my  husband  to  tell  me  what  to  do  ?  I 
have  but  borne  thee  a  son.  Thou  art  only 
all  the  desire  of  my  soul  to  me.  How  shall 
I  depart  when  I  know  that  if  evil  befall  thee 
by  the  breadth  of  so  much  as  my  littlest  finger- 
nail— is  that  not  small  ? — I  should  be  aware 
of  it  though  I  were  in  Paradise  ?  And  here, 
this  summer  thou  mayest  die — ai,  janee, 
diel — and  in  dying  they  might  call  to  tend 
thee  a  white  woman,  and  she  would  rob  me 
in  the  last  of  thy  love," 


170        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

"  But  love  is  not  born  in  a  moment,  or  on 
a  death-bed." 

"  What  dost  thou  know  of  love,  stone-heart  ? 
She  would  take  thy  thanks  at  least,  and,  by 
God  and  the  Prophet  and  Beebee  Miriam,  the 
mother  of  thy  Prophet,  that  I  will  never 
endure.  My  lord  and  my  love,  let  there  be 
no  more  foolish  talk  of  going  away.  Where 
thou  art,  I  am.  It  is  enough."  She  put  an 
arm  around  his  neck  and  a  hand  on  his  mouth. 

There  are  not  many  happinesses  so  com- 
plete as  those  that  are  snatched  under  the 
shadow  of  the  sword.  They  sat  together  and 
laughed,  calling  each  other  openly  by  every 
pet  name  that  could  move  the  wrath  of  the 
gods.  The  city  below  them  was  locked  up 
in  its  own  torments.  Sulphur-fires  blazed  in 
the  streets ;  the  conches  in  the  Hindoo 
temples  screamed  and  bellowed,  for  the  gods 
were  inattentive  in  those  days.  There  was  a 
service  in  the  great  Mohammendan  shrine, 
and  the  call  to  prayer  from  the  minarets  was 
almost  unceasing.  They  heard  the  wailing 
in  the  houses  of  the  dead,  and  once  the  shriek 
of  a  mother  who  had  lost  a  child  and  was 
calling  for  its  return.  In  the  gray  dawn  they 
saw  the  dead  borne  out  through  the  city  gates, 
each  litter  with  its  own  little  knot  of  mourn- 
ers. Wherefore  they  kissed  each  other  and 
shivered. 

It  was  a  red  and  heavy  audit,  for  the  land 
was  very  sick  and  needed  a  little  breathing* 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  171 

space  ere  the  torrent  of  cheap  life  should 
flood  it  anew.  The  children  of  immature 
fathers  and  undeveloped  mothers  made  no 
resistance.  They  were  cowed  and  sat  still, 
waiting  till  the  sword  should  be  sheathed  in 
November,  if  it  were  so  willed.  There  were 
gaps  among  the  English,  but  the  gaps  were 
filled.  The  work  of  superintending  famine 
relief,  cholera-sheds,  medicine  distribution, 
and  what  little  sanitation  was  possible,  went 
forward  because  it  was  so  ordered. 

Holden  had  been  told  to  hold  himself  in 
readiness  to  move  to  replace  the  next  man 
who  should  fall.  There  were  twelve  hours 
in  each  day  when  he  could  not  see  Ameera, 
and  she  might  die  in  three.  He  was  con- 
sidering what  his  pain  would  be  if  he  could 
not  see  her  for  three  months,  or  if  she  died 
out  of  his  sight.  He  was  absolutely  certain 
that  her  death  would  be  demanded — so  certain 
that,  when  he  looked  up  from  the  telegram 
and  saw  Pir  Khan  breathless  in  the  doorway, 
he  laughed  aloud,  "  And  ?  " — said  he. 

"  When  there  is  a  cry  in  the  night  and  the 
spirit  flutters  into  the  throat,  who  has  a  charm 
that  will  restore  ?  Come  swiftly,  heaven  born. 
It  is  the  black  cholera." 

Holden  galloped  to  his  home.  The  sky 
was  heavy  with  clouds,  for  the  long-deferred 
rains  were  at  hand,  and  the  heat  was  stifling. 
Ameera's  mother  met  him  in  the  courtyard, 
whimpering :  "  She  is  dying.  She  is  nursing 


172         Wee  Willie  Winkie 

herself  into  death.  She  is  all  but  dead.  What 
shall  I  do,  sahib  ?  " 

Ameera  was  lying  in  the  room  in  which 
Tota  had  been  born.  She  made  no  sign  when 
Holden  entered,  because  the  human  soul  is  a 
very  lonely  thing,  and  when  it  is  getting  ready 
to  go  away  hides  itself  in  a  misty  border-land 
where  the  living  may  not  follow.  The  black 
cholera  does  its  work  quietly  and  without  ex- 
planation. Ameera  was  being  thrust  out  of 
life  as  though  the  Angel  of  Death  had  himself 
put  his  hand  upon  her.  The  quick  breathing 
seemed  to  show  that  she  was  either  afraid  or 
in  pain,  but  neither  eyes  nor  mouth  gave  any 
answer  to  Holden's  kisses.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  be  said  or  done.  Holden  could  only 
wait  and  suffer.  The  first  drops  of  the  rain 
began  to  fall  on  the  roof,  and  he  could  hear 
shouts  of  joy  in  the  parched  city. 

The  soul  came  back  a  little  and  the  lips 
moved.  Holden  bent  down  to  listen.  "  Keep 
nothing  of  mine,"  said  Ameera.  "  Take  no 
hair  from  my  head.  She  would  make  thee 
burn  it  later  on.  That  flame  I  should  feel. 
Lower  1  Stoop  lower  1  Remember  only  that 
I  was  thine  and  bore  thee  a  son.  Though 
thou  wed  a  white  woman  to-morrow,  the 
pleasure  of  taking  in  thy  arms  thy  first  son  is 
taken  from  thee  forever.  Remember  me  when 
thy  son  is  born — the  one  that  shall  carry  thy 
name  before  all  men.  His  misfortunes  be  on 
my  head.  I  bear  witness — I  bear  witness  "— 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  173 

the  lips  were  forming  the  words  on  his  ear 
— "  that  there  is  no  God  but — thee,  beloved." 

Then  she  died.  Holden  sat  still,  and 
thought  of  any  kind  was  taken  from  him  till 
he  heard  Ameera's  mother  lift  the  curtain. 

"  Is  she  dead,  sahib  ?  " 

"  She  is  dead." 

"  Then  I  will  mourn,  and  afterward  take  an 
inventory  of  the  furniture  in  this  house ;  for 
that  will  be  mine.  The  sahib  does  not  mean 
to  resume  it.  It  is  so  little,  so  very  little, 
sahib,  and  I  am  an  old  woman.  I  would  like 
to  lie  softly." 

"  For  the  mercy  of  God,  be  silent  awhile  1 
Go  out  and  mourn  where  I  cannot  hear." 

"  Sahib,  she  will  be  buried  in  four  hours." 

"  I  know  the  custom.  I  shall  go  ere  she  is 
taken  away.  That  matter  is  in  thy  hands. 
Look  to  it  that  the  bed— on  which— on 
which — she  lies " 

"  Aha  I  That  beautiful  red-lacquered  bed. 
I  have  long  desired " 

— "  That  the  bed  is  left  here  untouched  for 
my  disposal.  All  else  in  the  house  is  thine. 
Hire  a  cart,  take  everything,  go  hence,  and 
before  sunrise  let  there  be  nothing  in  this 
house  but  that  which  I  have  ordered  thee  to 
respect." 

"  I  am  an  old  woman.  I  would  stay  at  least 
for  the  days  of  mourning,  and  the  rains  have 
just  broken.  Whither  shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  to  me  ?     My  order  is  that 


174        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

there  is  a  going.  The  house-gear  is  worth  a 
thousand  rupees,  and  my  orderly  shall  bring 
thee  a  hundred  rupees  to-night." 

"  That  is  very  little.  Think  of  the  cart- 
hire." 

"  It  shall  be  nothing  unless  thou  goest,  and 
with  speed.  Oh,  woman,  get  hence,  and 
leave  me  to  my  dead  1  " 

The  mother  shuffled  down  the  staircase, 
and  in  her  anxiety  to  take  stock  of  the  house- 
fittings  forgot  to  mourn.  Holden  stayed  by 
Ameera's  side,  and  the  rain  roared  on  the 
roof.  He  could  not  think  connectedly  by 
reason  of  the  noise,  though  he  made  many 
attempts  to  do  so.  Then  four  sheeted  ghosts 
glided  dripping  into  the  room  and  stared  at 
him  through  their  veils.  They  were  the 
washers  of  the  dead.  Holden  left  the  room 
and  went  out  to  his  horse.  He  had  come  in 
a  dead,  stifling  calm,  through  ankle-deep  dust. 
He  found  the  courtyard  a  rain-lashed  pond 
alive  with  frogs,  a  torrent  of  yellow  water  ran 
under  the  gate,  and  a  roaring  wind  drove  the 
bolts  of  the  rain  like  buckshot  against  the 
mud  walls.  Pir  Khan  was  shivering  in  his 
little  hut  by  the  gate,  and  the  horse  was 
stamping  uneasily  in  the  water. 

"  I  have  been  told  the  sahib's  order,"  said 
he.  "  It  is  well.  This  house  is  now  desolate. 
I  go  also,  for  my  monkey  face  would  be  a  re- 
minder of  that  which  has  been.  Concerning 
the  bed,  I  will  bring  that  to  thy  house  yonder 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  175 

in  the  morning.  But  remember,  sahib,  it  will 
be  to  thee  as  a  knife  turned  in  a  green  wound. 
I  go  upon  a  pilgrimage  and  I  will  take  no 
money.  I  have  grown  fat  in  the  protection  of 
the  Presence,  whose  sorrow  is  my  sorrow. 
For  the  last  time  I  hold  his  stirrup." 

He  touched  Holden's  foot  with  both  hands, 
and  the  horse  sprung  out  into  the  road,  where 
the  creaking  bamboos  were  whipping  the  sky 
and  all  the  frogs  were  chuckling.  Holden 
could  not  see  for  the  rain  in  his  face.  He 
put  his  hands  before  his  eyes  and  muttered : 
"  Oh,  you  brute  1  You  utter  brute  1 " 

The  news  of  his  trouble  was  already  in  his 
bungalow.  He  read  the  knowledge  in  his 
butler's  eyes  when  Ahmed  Khan  brought  in 
food,  and  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life 
laid  a  hand  upon  his  master's  shoulder,  say- 
ing :  "  Eat,  sahib,  eat.  Meat  is  good  against 
sorrow.  I  also  have  known.  Moreover, -the 
shadows  come  and  go,  sahib.  The  shadows 
come  and  go.  These  be  curried  eggs." 

Holden  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep.  The 
heavens  sent  down  eight  inches  of  rain  in  that 
night  and  scoured  the  earth  clean.  The 
waters  tore  down  walls,  broke  roads,  and 
washed  open  the  shallow  graves  in  the  Moham- 
medan burying-ground.  All  next  day  it 
rained,  and  Holden  sat  still  in  his  house 
considering  his  sorrow.  On  the  morning 
of  the  third  day  he  received  a  telegram 
which  said  only  :  "  Ricketts,  Myndonie. 


176        Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Dying.  Holden.  Relieve.  Immediate." 
Then  he  thought  that  before  he  departed  he 
would  look  at  the  house  wherein  he  had  been 
master  and  lord.  There  was  a  break  in  the 
weather.  The  rank  earth  steamed  with 
vapor,  and  Holden  was  vermilion  from  head 
to  heel  with  the  prickly-heat  born  of  sultry 
moisture. 

He  found  that  the  rains  had  torn  down  the 
mud-pillars  of  the  gateway,  and  the  heavy 
wooden  gate  that  had  guarded  his  life  hung 
drunkenly  from  one  hinge.  There  was  grass 
three  inches  high  in  the  courtyard ;  Pir 
Khan's  lodge  was  empty,  and  the  sodden 
thatch  sagged  between  the  beams.  A  gray 
squirrel  was  in  possession  of  the  veranda,  as 
if  the  house  had  been  untenanted  for  thirty 
years  instead  of  three  days.  Ameera's  mother 
had  removed  everything  except  some  mildewed 
matting.  The  tick-tick  of  the  little  scorpions 
as  they  hurried  across  the  floor  was  the  only 
sound  in  the  house.  Ameera's  room  and  that 
other  one  where  Tota  had  lived  were  heavy 
with  mildew,  and  the  narrow  staircase  leading 
to  the  roof  was  streaked  and  stained  with  rain- 
borne  mud.  Holden  saw  all  these  things,  and 
came  out  again  to  meet  in  the  road  Durga 
Dass,  his  landlord — portly,  affable,  clothed  in 
white  muslin,  and  driving  a  C-spring  buggy. 
He  was  overlooking  his  property,  to  see  how 
the  roofs  withstood  the  stress  of  the  first 
rains. 


Without  Benefit  of  Clergy  177 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  he,  "  you  will  not  take 
this  place  any  more,  sahib  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"Perhaps  I  shall  let  it  again." 

"  Then  I  will  keep  it  on  while  I  am  away.w 

Durga  Dass  was  silent  for  some  time. 
"  You  shall  not  take  it  on,  sahib,"  he  said. 
"  When  I  was  a  young  man  I  also—  But  to- 
day I  am  a  member  of  the  municipality.  Hoi 
ho  1  No.  When  the  birds  have  gone,  what 
need  to  keep  the  nest  ?  I  will  have  it  pulled 
down ;  the  timber  will  sell  for  something  al- 
ways. It  shall  be  pulled  down,  and  the  mu- 
nicipality shall  make  a  road  across,  as  they 
desire,  from  the  burning-ghat  to  the  city  wall. 
So  that  no  man  may  say  where  this  house 
stood." 


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